Looping
by pixienewt676
Summary: Ever wonder how two opposite people, living quite the opposite lives, surviving from differing issues, feeling the contrasting things, come together by the same pull of fate?. AU. Modern era. Contains a lot of pessimistic Enoch moments and bubbly, chattery Olive.
1. Intro

Hullo peculiar readers! Greetings, greetings! I am delighted that you clicked this one amidst all the other fantastic reads among the fandom x Thank you, thank you! It took me quite a while to think this publish through, but the idea had been bugging me for days! The Me Before You trailer has been in my head for quite a while now and as requested by my blabbering thoughts, I decided to give in to them and typed. This'll shut em up.

* * *

 **Introduction**

The world revolves with clumsy footsteps and hidden smiles, strangers ignoring passerby's and lonely fingers itching to find something to hold. Though in the midst of individuality, souls would do so often bump to specific distinct vagabonds, familiarity forms, gaps fill with comforting intervals, silence became a conversation two pair of eyes exchange. Somewhere in the vast distance and depth of the world, that peculiar meeting comes, it bear strength and reassurance, it leads to that one lingering soul.

In some countries, soul mates are depicted in different bizarre ways. Some say it was by the comparisons of physical attributes on two differing individuals, and some even say unseen red strings float all around the world, connecting two destined souls to help them find a way to each other. Nobody has the exact reasoning of such sensational belief, though as what the girl who's light as a feather would say: "Where's the fun in that?" It was probably unexplainable and lacking of evidence, or simply it was because, as the pessimist heir of undertakers would say: "Nobody has time for that"

Yet, as lacking and impossible it sounds, still their souls cross paths in the same direction. It was not as vague as a circle. It was not seen right away, nor was it already sensed. They were traveling in a loop with opposite ends.

Still though, in the end, they seem to always meet halfway.


	2. Prologue: Phase One

**Prologue:**

 **Phase One**

If one would ask her just what the bloody hell was going on, she would mentally breakdown and beg for you to carry her up to the remaining five threatening staircases that seemed so far from her heavy and painful feet. Claire Densmore had never been so exhausted in her entire life, let alone in the field of modeling where she was always expected to move faster than a sprinter in a field; she learned how to cloth herself in towering gowns in less than half of five minutes, that could be a world record. She was running a little late for that morning shoot and to top it all off, the elevators were all under maintenance. Dressed with that heavy wedding gown she was supposed to model, she thought she could survive the towering ten staircases. Well, the tinted cheeks, bewildered eyes and messy bun could certainly drop everyone and her own mind the hint.

And understood they did. Once she reached the heavy, painful doors of the photo shoot, she was bombarded with the staff overwhelming her with portable fans and dabbing make up products all at once on her comical face.

"Where the bloody hell were you Claire? Did you forgot how to tell time all of a sudden?" Excluded in that group of people who 'patiently' waited for her was the co founder of the wedding company she partially works with. He was a well respected wedding planner as well as the more dominant boss in the complex. Between Horace Somnusson and Enoch O'Connor, people would most likely want to deal with the stylist more often than the cranky latter.

"My apologies Claire, he was just worried you backed out on us at the last minute" She might've though, if it wasn't for Horace and his persuasive manner. Besides, did she not survive her young years in Miss Peregrine's home with them? Mostly with Horace because Enoch was just that extra kid who could go home if he wanted to. She owes alot to her fashion forward friend, he helped her get the dream she always aspire to have. Enoch could go rant in the corner like the sour kid he once was.

"Nonsense Horace, why would I do that to you?"

"Your agency should be aware of this Claire, this is highly unprofessional" The fuming boy-man interrupted, his face was the same sour look he mustered a while while back from their childhood.

"Why couldn't I be late while you, on the other hand, could skip work for three days straight?" She frowned back, tensing in her posture as she felt herself being outcasted by his demanding composure. She knows her position, barely even touching the middle ground of his ladder, but in that room, they were suddenly Alma Peregrine's children again, spatting banters with one another like siblings in one warm house. How she missed those children dearly.

"And look at what you did with Horace's original design? You should be ashamed Claire Densmore" He ignored Claire's question and instead, continued ranting with his' problems regarding her work ethics, which infuriated her quite more than she thought it would. Horace once stated that they were definitely siblings in some point of their lives. They always seem to know how to depend on one another even if they are one step close to stabbing each other with forks.

"Well, if you had the elevators fixed before the day even started, maybe this could still be sweat and wrinkles free"

"But the elevators are working quite well, dear?"

Silence wrapped around the hectic holding room. Claire's eyes were a measurement wider and Horace was earnestly confused. Then, as if that was enough suspense for the day, the cranky man's frown relaxed and his throat pealed a loud mocking laughter.

"Serves you right for being delayed," he revealed.

Enoch wanted to make her suffer. And suffer she did.

She remembered the times chaos would ensue in the house. Being the youngest of all the children under Alma's care was both a privilege and a tiring role . Commonly, she tends to be defenseless, and Enoch loves picking with the younger children. Too bad he left the same week Olive entered their lives, she was as sneaky and as competitive as he was. He might've loved her. Everybody loves the little magpie.

"That was extremely rude of you Enoch" Horace tutted in disapproval, disbelieved by his immature and merciless actions. Though what is new with that, honestly?

"You know what he needs Horace? An assistant"

"Incase you have forgotten Miss Punctuality, nobody could stay longer than a week with me," he crossed his arms on his chest, his dark eyes glinting with pride. The prat took it as an achievement.

"Yeah? Keep on with that and you'll only have two people left in this business. And that's probably because that man next to you treats you like a brother and I, on the other hand, owe a lot of things to that person"

Claire and Horace know how dangerously close that downfall could be. The man needs someone who could do his biddings in a less painful manner. If he would not be willing to compromise any sooner, whatever that is left in their success would come crashing down in front of his eyes.

"Go ahead then, I would like to prove you wrong"

"And so would she. Just you wait Enoch"

She smirked at him, her own mind buzzing with ideas. She may not be skilled with pranking but she was enlightened by the scheme she has in her head. It has to work. Enoch would need that certain human to render him witless. It would not be her, oh gosh certainly not her. But someone.

Someone who's optimistic enough to match his pessimism

Someone who's fiery and competitive enough, it'll wake him up from his cranky slumber.

Someone who's enthusiasm could shine the skies if his infinite rain that cloud his vision.

It must be the perfect time to catch up with Bronwyn and Olive.


	3. Opposite Sides: the Catalyst

**Chapter One:**

 **the Catalyst**

As soon as she stepped out to greet the warm sun of Cairnholm, she was welcomed back by it's chilled breeze. The air passed by the strands of her fluffy blonde locks and immediately, she smelled the essence of the island's tranquil sea. Her senses were tingling and her lips cannot help but to form a smile. She felt as if the island actually waited for her to come home.

It had been such a long time since she last set her foot on it's soil after all.

After a few walks and one building exit later, amidst the open road and crowded boardwalks, a cabman's head perched up. He was awakened from his slumber, seemingly surprised to see a tourist in such an idle day in an even more plain island.

"Cab, madame?," the old man said

"Yes yes, can you take me here please?"

She slung her bag from her shoulder and fished for the worn out piece of paper that held the key for her answer.

The man stretched his arms and read the address to a tilted angle where the sun casted a beam of light. Once clear and precise, his eyes glanced at her then to the road infront of him.

"Oh, but this is just a few blocks ahead. Do you want to know the directions Ma'am? It could save you from wasting money"

Her heart tugged with the man's caring nature, seemingly surprised by how reasonable he was. From the looks of it, he seemed as if he actually does work hard, perhaps harder than she thinks he does. He was sporting weary lines upon his face and his eyes looked tired. Though despite his situation, he was still honorable.

She only smiled and whisked her way in the transportation. Do not get her wrong, she has received a fair share of kindness from strangers before, but it became so rare lately, especially in such a busy and popular city she lives in, the cab man was a breath of fresh air. In a busy and fast paced life she chose for herself, it was nice to come back to the simple life, where she could not see professionals out doing each other and lives were ordinary but people were content.

Without any other argument, he started the engine, his eyes were vaguely confused but focused.

"Welcome to Cairnholm Miss, it's not much but it's home"

"Welcome back indeed"

"Oh its a home coming aye? Welcome back Madame"

She smiled, a rush of distinct familiarity awakened the young Claire Densmore inside her. She leaned onto the glass pane of the cab, her forehead flat against the surface. Outside the moving vehicle, familiar street signs and old fashioned stores passed by, winking at her with their nostalgic titles.

Children run upon the cobbled streets, their faces shimming with happiness despite the mud that inked their shoes. Those students reminded her of the orphans that once lived in Miss Peregrine's care. Though they were abandoned, they had their home in each others company, they were brothers and sisters who swore they would always be family.

It saddened her to remember the last time they were all together. It was the death of their Headmistress, who in her last breath looked at them one by one with such warmth in her eyes. She was the rope that bind them all together, the reason why they found a family that they belong to. Everyone ceased from the thread once it was loosened.

Despite the success she's relinquishing in, there was a deep longing in her heart that yearned to have her family find their way back together again. She often blamed herself for it. Though her reasoning was weak, she often blamed herself for being the first one to snap. She left them once she received a modeling contract from a famous company in East London. Then one by one, each of them also stepped out from the bind and followed their own dreams. They momentarily forgot the magical place that built a home for them.

It was quite ironic though. She would help fate do it's work. She would be the one who'll strengthen one certain loop of two uncertain people.

"If I am not mistaken, this is you for now" The engine stopped as they met side to side with the cobble steps leading to a simple wooden door. She glanced at the golden plate that was identical to the name of the address written in the paper, seemingly convinced of the resemblance.

"Thank you for your kindness sir, it was much appreciated"

"Don't worry much of it child. Best of luck to you"

The cab scurried off, leaving her face to face with the flat that contained two of the people she holds dear. She took the door knocker in her hand, slamming it ever so softly against the rich wood underneath.

Worry filled her system as she realized how long it had been since she last spoke to them. It all just started to sink in as she realized that there was a big chance that Olive and Bronwyn might have already moved to a new space. It had been five bloody years already and she knew judging by Olive's pictures in her social media accounts that she was slowly making a name for herself as well.

Few soft footsteps could be heard from the wooden floor at the other side of the door. Then, slowly, the door creaked open, revealing the masculine face of a gentle woman.

"I cannot believe it. Little magpie, its little miss Claire" She was rushed inside before she got the chance to greet them properly. Bronwyn was still undeniably strong and inwardly gentle as how she pictured her to be. Giggles left her throat, she was utterly surprised and quite relieved. She thought they wouldn't remember, or worse, welcome her at all.

From the arching frame of the next room, Olive entered the scene. She grew up seemingly changed. That little tiara she once fabulously sported was replaced with a black hairband that tamed the brown bangs that gotten ridiculously long. She also recently cut it quite short; shorter than her usual mane that always end mid half her arms. Olive eyed the visitor with delight, then slowly, a pair of dimples shone upon her cheeks. The energy and optimism were still in her jolly personality.

"Claire Densmore? I cannot believe it. Bronwyn, we have a successful model in our flat." Olive attacked her in one of her bear hugs, her characteristics did not change.

"Come, come lets fill that flat tummy of yours. No one shall leave Magpie and Bronwyn's flat with a starving stomach"

She let Bronwyn and Olive lead her inside the arch the latter had come from. Olive from her left told her stories of the things that were currently happening in their lives. Those were with how well Bronwyn has been taking care of Miss Peregrine's home and being the Headmistress of the beloved house, Millard's rising success with being a professor in a prestigious university, his humble voluntary missions to educate the poor, and her conflict with the workshop she was invited to. On her right however, Bronwyn just glances and smiles encouragingly, her patience and calm demeanor were truly fit for guiding hyper children.

Once inside, Claire glanced around the place. It seemed that Bronwyn had spend too much time in decorating for it was written in every single side of every room, her influence. The flat was homely, most of the furnitures were wooden and the walls were cream of color. The stand outs were however, the framed portraits hanging upon the walls and upon the grand fireplace. She saw her own face in some of them.

They entered a south arch that welcomed them to the girls' dining and kitchen area.

Olive pulled one mahogany chair for her to sit on as she continued to delve the younger girl with stories.

"You are already sharp from all that workshops and classes you attend to, Olive. Why on earth are you so persuasive in this one?" From the kitchen, Bronwyn came back and slid them both a mug of hot chocolate. Once landing in front of them, the motherly woman scurried off once again.

"I have to widen my horizons. Besides, wouldn't it be grand if I dance and act? My theatre group and I agreed that would be the best for me"

Claire nodded but inside, she frowned. It seemed that her plan would pend on hold for now.

"You seemed to want it as well, what's holding you back then?"

"East London is too far away, and besides, I am not fortunate enough to balance my concentration in my skills and work as well. It'll go downhill the moment I would try to juggle it," she wrapped her hands to her own mug and slurped a few sips ",who knows? Maybe it wasn't the right time for me just yet"

Her ears perked as soon as she heard the location. Suddenly, her thoughts changed and she brought a new light bulb next to the old one that was twitching with uncertainty. Her plan took a sudden shift, though it was more detailed and would probably be more stressful and life changing to the two people involved.

"Funny you mentioned it. We could do something about that"

"About what?"

As if fate wanted for her plan to carry on, Bronwyn re-entered the picture in the right time. The woman was absolutely supportive in whatever makes them happy, no doubt she would coax her young housemate into accepting.

"I have this friend who is in deep need of a baby sitter. I think it is the right time for you to go Olive, it is a win-win situation. You'll have a place to sleep and he'll have you to assist him" She laid the cards upon the table, presenting her her aces and the deck's perfect assemble. Above the lid of her mug, Olive hummed thoughtfully, her expression was a mixture if excitement and doubt.

"I don't know Claire, I mean I am not level headed and realistic. And East London is so far from Bronwyn, I could not leave her"

"Don't mind me magpie, t'is a chance, grab it. I am certain that t'is would change your life fo'the better."

Despite the years being separated from them, Claire knew Olive still has her spark within her. She may have grown physically, but her eternally optimistic, shamelessly happy, and extremely passionate self was still there.

She knows it'll be quite a revelation, and she'll be risking her part in Enoch's company, but it was more than just a revenge. It was more of doing him a favor he hasn't recognized needing yet. At first, she was just planning to get Olive as his assistant in the business. To have someone close to home and in comfort might be a great solution for his stressors. And Olive would be the right match for that irritation.

But all took a sharp turn when fate entered and deepened the impending connection. They might not understand just what she is doing right now, but she's certain it'll turn out well. It better be, or else she'll be ruined.

"Well, when will we leave then?"

"Erm, this evening I suppose, that is if it's fine with you, Olive. I do not have anything but this clothes I'm wearing and my passport, this trip is sort of out of sheer impulse"

"I better start packing then. See you in a bit Claire"

Claire and Bronwyn sat staring at the retreating figure behind them, sipping in their mugs as nonchalant as possible. Once out of ear's reach, Bronwyn heaved a nervous sigh, her eyes were in their worried gaze. Claire sensed the older eoman's distress and she, out of instinct, collected Bronwyn's hands in her own ones and squeezed.

"You know her Bronwyn, she'll be alright. She's braver than we give her credit of"

"Miss Claire, I know she would. I trust her. But what about that man you're talking about? Could I trust him as well?"

By that, Claire squirmed in her seat, her excitement shone through the visible teeth shown by her stretched lips.

"Of course you would. You already know him Bronwyn. Although he is still the same pessimistic child that we know off." Bronwyn's eyes widen. She must've finally traced the dots Claire was leaving her to pinpoint. Right after following her words, her lines drew her the face of a blond boy with dark circles faint underneath his eyes. Beneath it was the name Enoch O' Connor.

"I did not know that Mister Enoch already welcomed his first child"

"What? No Bronwyn. Who says anything about children?"

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Thank you so much for reading the very first chapter of this story! Please do leave a review, anything to keep it going :)


	4. Opposite Sides: Flying Magpie, Cold Wine

**Chapter Two**

 **Opposite Sides:**

 **Flying Magpie, Cold Wine**

Everything happened way too soon. One moment she was in her sleeping clothes with bunny slippers clothing her feet, awaiting for evening to go by, then next, she was sitting fidgety in her plane seat, her yellow overalls and wooly cardigan she picked were of outside clothes, sunny and casual. Everything took a sharp shift. She also did not expect she would be flying to her dreams as well.

Glancing to the endless pile of cottony clouds outside the pane, she cannot help but to think of Wyn-wyn. That woman's heart was as soft as the clouds that looked way too much like cotton candy; she gave Olive a home when the latter thought she would always annoy people out. She became the mother and a sister Olive have always secretly wanted to have. She just has the biggest heart and she deserves the world.

"Are you okay Olive?"

"I'll make Wyn proud, mark my words Claire"

Beneath her thirst to thrive, she would also try her hardest for that kind woman. As she packed her things, her heart swelled with the notion that she'd finally contribute something for their joined lives. They have finance to worry and children to cloth and feed. Bronwyn might not say it out loud but sometimes, money does not come easily to such a prioritizing woman. All she ever does was to worry for people who sometimes, cannot see just how special she is. Olive would whole heartedly reward her the gratitude she deserves.

"I'm sure she's already proud. You should have looked at her face when we're leaving," Claire said gently, her lips stretching to a smile she seems to use for her covers in teenage magazines.

"Probably because she'll finally have the flat for herself. She's lacking of alone time with Sam lately, this is the perfect time to catch up"

There was a slight pause from her model friend. Claire looked at her with a rare warmth in her seemingly cold and always intimidating eyes. It seemed as if despite the professionalism being installed in the girl's system and the years spent being away, hiding her sentiments, she still has that soft spot for the siblings she had collected.

Olive mindlessly nodded, her head preoccupied by thoughts and curiosity.

"It has been such a long time Claire. I am so glad you've thought of us"

"I know Olive and I'm so terribly sorry. That's why I'm here, I would gladly repay everything you lot have done for me"

Suddenly, memories of a doll like Claire and a tiara wearing Olive flashed to their minds. They would so often sleep in one bed, Bronwyn on the center with a familiar book on hand. They loved it when the older girl would read them stories about peculiar children, it made them sleep well at night and helped them dream such ambitious dreams. Sometimes, Miss Peregrine would be there as well, giving them soft kisses on their foreheads to wish them a blessed night.

It was when everyone was in harmony, when they could not bear entertain the notion that they would soon leave and have their individual lives to take care of. When everything was fascinating and much better to experience when with darling friends.

"You need not to repay anything. Just giving me this opportunity is enough. Although I'm a bit uncertain what approach would I use to be honest, I want this to work so badly"

"Seriously speaking, you are entirely perfect for the job. You'll do fine, I promise"

* * *

As soon as Olive loaded her things to the private limousine, she already sensed that her stay would be one crazy roller coaster ride. The mysterious family's private driver for one was extremely chatty, but all around trying to hide something from her. And what even made her more agitated was Claire, she looked as if she knew what it was as well.

If only she was as smart as Sherlock Holmes, she could have deduced just what Claire was planning, but unfortunately, her mind was no mind palace. The secret was slowly eating her alive.

"How is he?"

"How is who?"

The driver, who Claire had introduced as Sharon, was enjoying having her knickers on a twist. He smiled teasingly through his mirror, his eyes glancing at her frowning face.

"That boy I am going to take care of, Sharon."

"A boy she said," he scoffed. Claire's eyes widened with disbelief and he glanced at her with his glint "quite a 'charming' one Miss Elephanta. I'm sure he'll be so 'overjoyed' to finally meet you" their secret was vaguely revealed. It lingered in the air and caressed Olive's nose teasingly. Fortunately, Olive did not breathe it in and was still as curious as she was before. She did not catch just what had been revealed infront of her.

"You make it sound like I'm going to take care of an attractive man who's in the same age as me" she instead, innocently fired back, the humor echoing to her silent giggle.

"No, no" Claire's voice however, was hurried. Her eyes were also worrying.

Immediately, that made her assume a false belief.

"Don't worry too much Claire. I could handle a little kid, not sure if he could handle me though" Olive winked at the distressed girl, trying to ease her from whatever it was she was thinking. She understood it now. Or so she thought she does. She was under the impression that Claire was just afraid to tell her just how much of a brat the spoiled boy must be.

"So what do you do Miss Elephanta?"

"Well, I dance in musicals and theatre productions. Sometimes, I also take shifts in the most interesting places. I worked as a cashier in this friendly tattoo parlor whenever I was free from dance practice. And oh, I also had a shift in a sex shop once, it was fun and odd but mostly, interesting," she stated, her smile did not falter one bit. The air of awkwardness loosen up and the ride turned slightly light. Claire hid her impressed smile underneath her handkerchief and Sharon just stared impressed "I don't know, I think its just so interesting to enter such an honest world amidst all the hidden agendas strangers have outside. I love being in a world where I am most true."

"Well, I think you are more than ready to handle this chaos"

Sharon passed by the intimidating fancy lots of the village. One by one Olive counted them with an index finger, staring at the passerby's that looked at her with unreadable faces. Her heart immediately tugged fast in her chest, her beaming smile becoming slightly forced but her eyes were strengthening their determination.

"Densmore's right, you are indeed the perfect suit for the job"

Little did she know, one certain man sat confused in his love seat, holding onto his wine that seemed to pour clarity in his thirsty throat.

* * *

As soon as they entered an innocent arching gate, Olive's eyes widen. The overwhelming feeling of feeling as if being belittled stabbed her like a knife burying itself on the Hopeless Romantic Romeo's chest. The trail that they were following lead them to a lonely manor. As if the citizens weren't enough with their stares, the intense house swallowed her with its deafening silence. She sensed how quiet it was, there was not any whisk of motion that pass by the lengthy windows. Not even a sound of a cricket whispered through the trailing trees. Yet, still, the black and white structure shouted modernism at her, almost as if it was daring her to come closer. Despite the weariness she felt, she still pressed on. Because where else would she go?

Olive did not speak for quite a while, not even when Sharon and Claire wished her some luck and left her to deal with her first day. She stood upon the manor's marbled steps, awaiting for a leaping majestic unicorn to sprung from the vast greenery. It was all too close gripped with reality, she suddenly felt exhausted.

"Get a grip on yourself you fart," she mumbled, shrugging off the negative feeling and brought her shoulders aback. One clumsy hand was raised from its usual position next to her hip, the other's index finger pointing to the small button that must've been the bell.

As soon as the pad of her finger pressed a force in the small box, everything momentarily blinked. Her eye sight went dark and so did the pale wooden door in front of her. She blinked once, twice, her body shocked and frigid.

"I've been waiting." There came a whispering voice somewhere just behind her shoulder. The mysterious being was too close, she could almost smell the mint and the small hint of grapes in their breath. Still though, the pores on her skin reacted; goose pimples were all over her neck and arms.

She turned around slowly, her face was an imprint of shock and fright. She could feel the aura of the person who decided to scare her to death; his towering figure was slightly hinted by the sticking blond strands that fell from his hat. Few shaky breaths escaped her lungs, her mouth was open to illicit a loud cry.

A small smirk from his face, an obvious grin upon hers'

Everything was quick and slightly nerve wrecking. One moment she was being cornered, then next she was tricking him back. She could feel the man-yes it was a tall man, hitch a surprised breath just a few inches above her forehead. Against the thick cloth of his sweater, she sported a wide grin, seemingly satisfied by his reaction.

Her arms tightened around his frame for quite a while, enjoying the stiff reaction of his chest.

"So am I and would still be if you do not let me in." She, again, caught him slightly off guard. He must've not expected her to revert back, let alone hug him even though she was unaware of who he might be. What he did not know, she was quite accustomed with such close proximity. She trained herself to get used of it because of her intimate numbers with dancing strangers.

"That is a great idea. You know what? I could probably do just that" She could feel the sarcasm behind the tone of his voice. Her eyes rolled in their sockets, having such challenge with the strange, sarcastic man.

"You won't"

"Why not?"

Her lips spread themselves into a dashing, cunning smile. Somehow, against the thick fabric, she knows he had felt it.

"Cause I'll outwit you again"

He shifted inside her arms and she automatically tightened her grip. She could tell from his body language that he does not receive hugs that much. He stiffens with every small movement her arms would do.

"Let go off me, I don't even know you"

"No"

"I cannot understand why"

"Because who knows what you'll do to me once I'll let go off you"

"Pfft, what would I need from you?"

"Alright, maybe you don't. But I just got a job here. Don't you think it would be delightful if we'll become friends."

The mysterious door that seemed to only stare at her a while ago bursted open. Light oozed forth, its gaze blinking at the two of them. Immediately, the man in front of her was given a face. Her warm brown orbs stared unblinking on his blue ones, seeing through patches of memories she cannot decipher.

"What took you so long Ronaldo?"

"My apologies Enoch, I did not know you've been loitering around outside," a man who looked quite younger than the snobbish man beamed sheepishly, the curly hair upon his head was as fluffy as his relaxing voice. "Oh, and who could this be? Didn't think you have it in you Enoch"

"Oh geez well, my-"

"She goes with the name Olive. And although I do so have it in me, you misunderstood her presence. She is by far childish in nature and I could already tell she'll annoy me more than you do, Ronaldo" The curly haired man moved sideways for Enoch to walk through. It looked as if it was what he normally does. She quirked her brows in question, staring at the back of the blond's head, utterly curious as to how he knew about her and what his role is in her stay.

What an overly weird slightly attractive man.

"I am offended"

"Glad I could give you the service"

Ronaldo glanced at the retreating figure, then to her, his sheepish smile reaching his bright eyes. He swerved down the small steps and reached out for the luggage that rests innocently on her feet.

He gestured for her to enter and she did.

She stepped hurriedly, relieved that she was finally making progress. The heavy, penetrating aura of the village became quite too much for her quirky nature.

"What brings you here Miss Olive?"

"I need a place to crash near the workshop I'm going to attend to. So thank you, I wouldn't reach it if it wasn't for the job you gave me"

"Job? We aren't recruiting"

"Well, that is suspicious" She said with an upbeat humor, glancing around, looking at fragile glasswares designs and heavy, serious faced portraits hanging to the spacious entrance. "This is certainly not child proofed isn't it? How would a child grow up here?"

Although she grew up being extremely brave from all that curiosity and bruises, the spiky, fragile glass all around looked quite deadly. The pad was shouting bachelor and it certainly gave her the vibe that the boy she's going to take care of would be challenging.

Ronaldo, instead of his usual mirth, furrowed his brows at her, looking at her weirdly. She blinked back, unsure of the humorous situation she continues to dig herself into.

The frigid man who was leading their trail stopped as well. He turned and glanced at them, his hands hidden behind his back. The chandelier above their heads was too bright, the man just few inches in front looked quite dim outside the light's soft rays. She was beginning to get creeped out by the scenario, imagining things that she way so often watch in horror movies Sam would often let her watch in her and Wyn's flat.

"Leave her to me Ronaldo"

Her eyes went wide and she swore she felt her hand reach out for the fluffy man who rolled her luggage. She begged with the expression upon her face, which did go noticed but was easily shrugged.

She gulped and tightened her fists. It was only her now, off to the lion's den. Oh where should she conjure the Daniel within her?

"Come with me Olive"

"What if I don't want to?"

"Say bye bye to your clothes and bunny slippers then"

"Hey those were the fluffiest slippers you'll ever see"

The grumpy lion did not speak and instead, pressed on. She still followed though, lifting her head, tilted to a proud manner.

Who's she kidding? She's no Daniel. Perhaps, she was little red riding hood, off to the hearth of the wolf's pressing hunger. She knew she should muster the David within her, throw pebbles to the wind and fight the giant against her. But she spends her days with her spontaneous behavior, she was well acquainted with her personality. She knows she was way too curious and stupid to even think about her escape.

"Just so you know, I'm flexibly quick. I could strangle you before my whole name could leave from your mouth" And also, way too outspoken and feisty.

Enoch smirked, his hands still fixed behind his back.

He lead her straight to the arching hallway, dozens of portraits hanging to both sides of the white wall. The faces seemed to stare at her, their eyes scrutinizing her core. She inched further to him, just far enough to not have their skin touching, but just too close to have her hands quite near to his thighs. Her sudden proximity did not go unnoticed, he glanced warily from his shoulder, his brow raising, probably baffling the act. She did not care though, she only wanted to get away from such cold pairs of eyes.

The walk went deadly quiet. He was advancing casually and she tried to follow his huge steps. He accompanied her towards the room behind an automatic glass doors. It sensed their weights and opened in one soft stroke.

"Quite a fancy room to be killed in, I must say." She must've said her thoughts out loud because Enoch snorted in reply. Well.. At least it entertained him.

He strutted his way and passed by the glass piano that seemed to be the highlight of the living room. She raised her brows seemingly impressed, her hand itching to touch the transparent case that kept on tempting her to stroke them. Well, if she would be killed, she would at least want to die upon something so extravagant.

"Again may I repeat. What would I possibly need from you? I could get caught easily with that mouth of yours"

"Well, thank the heavens for blessing me with this mouth of mine"

"That'll probably doom us all"

He scrutinized her slowly. His eyes began with her lime green mary janes, black star studded leggings, her soft yellow pencil skirt, white mundane blouse, yellow wooly cardigan, red heart shaped pendant, then up to her teasing smile. She stood warily, her hands leaning back as if she was trying to model whatever she was endorsing.

"Has anybody ever told you that you look like a walking one woman circus?"

"I would like to believe that that isn't bad at all, so thank you for the complement, Enoch. Enoch, isn't it?"

Then, his face morphed unreadable. His eyes swerved pass from her glinting, optimistic eyes, transfixing itself to the glass of wine sitting upon his desk.

She was left standing on her toes, the smile changed and became confused. The man in front of her seemed to be quite irksome, though she found herself not minding at all. At some point, she knew that despite the cold glass shards he let himself live in, the wine that he continuously pour to his throat was hot vapor that contained the truths he felt so afraid to let out.

And if anything, she might not be good at deducing situations but she believes perhaps, way too much.

"So what do you do for a living?"

Since he did not even treat her as his guest, she found it within herself the willpower to feel at home. She walked across the gap between them and pulled that one leather chair in front of his desk. She was wary of what he might react, but still if he was surprised or alarmed, it did not show in his eyes. And so she continued, she sat her bum to the cozy chair and beamed a smile.

"I am a wedding planner." His statement sounded as if it was the end of his response. It was clear in his voice that he would rather not have such conversation with her right now, or ever actually.

"Why?"

"Need I have to say my reason?"

"Well, yes of course. Just like I love the sensation of being so light weight and lost in the air. When I dance, I often feel as if I'm a bird." He snorted when she imitated a flying bird. She spread her limbs and flapped, her eyes closed and lips loosely smiling.

"For a professional performer, you're absolutely askew on the head"

She opened her eyes and saw his chuckling face. In response, she grunted in her throat, settling her arms back to their normal place.

"You know, for a wedding planner, you're cranky"

She observed his face as it settled to its usual frigid demeanor. She cannot lie, he could be dashing- even his rare smile that looked predatory. Then, she cannot help but wonder. She jumped again to conclusions that do not have certain basis. She glanced at his left and right ring fingers, vaguely searching for a hint of imprint that left a ghostly presence.

There was no bands or a hint of them at all.

That girl must've broke their son's heart and must've devastated him deeper.

"Oh I understand now"

"What?"

"Why you're distant with me. You still love her don't you? That's why you're so cold and aloof with me. You fear that your son would think I am taking her place." The receiver of her words only glared at her in disbelief, she smiled sheepishly and continued. "Don't worry, I only came here with pure intentions. I'll bond with him like an older sister or an aunt that he had only met once and is willingly to make up for lost times. You already told me I'm childish so I think we'll instantly become friends.. Unless you would want me to be strict? Please don't force me to do so"

As if she had guessed wrong again, her eardrums were taken aback by the loud deep laughter that escaped from his timid lips. She did not get why he was being so incredibly goofy all of a sudden. Maybe he was just trying to cover whatever it was he's feeling. It was okay for her though, she understands.

"I don't have a son yet, silly girl. Nor do I have any woman"

"A man maybe?"

"No. I do not have the time to dwell on such weakness"

"I don't understand. I came here to babysit. Claire told me I have to take care of someone"

"Well, she might have lied to you. Go on now, you must have misunderstood it"

For once, in their odd conversation, she fell speechless. He shrugged her off so easily, her heart felt as if it was squeezed from its core. Tremor filled her very being. The notion that she would fail Wyn again trapped her, it felt like a rope tangling her with vicious hands.

"But I could help you. Claire wouldn't lie to me, that's impossible"

"I don't need your help"

She furrowed her brows and looked at him without the realization that her eyes expressed the need she so wanted him to see. For a moment, her orbs just held his gaze, her pride currently being on hold and her sentiments was pouring freely.

The air grew thick and she felt him struggle from the binds she tangled him with. He stood up abruptly, passing her by with remote steps. He was trying to avoid her.

She closed her eyes and breath three shallow breaths in. She could not let her opportunity pass by. She was not born to rot in regrets and what ifs, even if her foolish pride would need her to do so.

"I know, but I need yours please. I don't have anywhere else to go. I'll work for you, I could make you hot cocoa every single day"

When he did not answer back, she hardened her position and took fight instead of flight as an answer. She was Wyn's magpie after all, she would fight for her guard. She was a feisty little babbling bird and she could use those for her advantage.

"I would kiss you if you don't"

His shadow upon the floor moved upon its spot, he must've been taken aback by her threat and decided to taunt her back.

"You wouldn't"

"Try me"

Her voice came as a whisper, it almost sounded frail. In contrast, she turned around with a mischievous expression, her head tilted with the air of confidence she mustered from all that performances where she was expected to dazzle. He in return, observed her with his hooded eyes, his mouth tight with his characteristic frown.

One, two, three

She glided softly upon his floor, her feet were carried by the thick atmosphere between them. She could feel her veins tingling with excitement.

There, almost there. She's near to her prize.

In case one would not know, it was not his lips or whatsoever that pertains his physical attributes. It was the simple word, that ticket for a promising future. It was that syllable that came from a certain voice she did not realize she needed before she came to East London. Before the chatty driver, before the mysterious appearance of Claire Densmore.

His face was a breath away, she could almost touch the same sweater she indulged her face in quite a while ago. His eyes were staring back, looking at hers with hidden fright and doubt inside. Inwardly, she was begging him to make her stop. She told herself that she physically kept on going because she needed to. Of course.

"Yes." He whispered, his breath puffing quite dangerously close to her mouth. She ignored it though, because that would be quite scary to spend time thinking about.

He held her with an intense grip, her shoulders inside his hands. She tiptoed with her toes, her head tilted to meet his eyes.

"Yes as in?"

"Yes as in do me a favor, pretend as if you don't exist in this house alright?"

With one snap and a blink of an eye, he let her go, the door clicked behind him and his footsteps echoed with every heavy press. She stood alone in her spot, her hands touching the lingering presence of warmth upon her arms.

She cannot help but to grin in realization that she won again.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please do leave a review :)


	5. Opposite Sides: Tug of War

_Disclaimer: I do not own MPHFPC and Facebook._

* * *

 **Chapter Three**

 **Opposite Sides:**

 **Tug of War**

 _"Why you're distant with me. You still love her don't you? That's why you're so cold and aloof with me. You fear that your son would think I am taking her place."_

The night dimmed the inside of his room, tempting him to give in and lay his thoughts to rest. On his ceiling were patches of faint red, blue and green that illuminated from the busy boardwalks of the slightly close city. His glass window looked thick enough not to break, but somehow it let ideas formulate inside his head.

He took another long sip from the cold wine wrapped inside his hand.

The cool liquid slipped to the lapping tissues of his throat, it tickled him with a replenishing sensation. He relinquished in the silence brought by his closed mouth and his dark room. Somehow, he felt as if he needed to enjoy that exact moment of clarity. He predicted that the stranger would shake his posture, she's too bubbly and much of a babble mouth for her own good. His little world would surely get stained with her explosion of nonsense.

He tilted his head against his headboard, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

He did not expect Claire to act upon her distress, nonetheless, advance to such uncomfortable position. To have an assistant is troubling for the likes of him, but to have a mysterious person be with you twenty four hours each day would be absolutely, extremely and wholesomely tiresome. Olive Elephanta was thrusted onto him as he was too powerless to decline, and she, too enclosed with hope to even back out.

She was incredibly stubborn. A train wreck of persistency- which he admires in one person, mind you.

Yet, he could only think of one person who egged him with such manner.

When Olive Elephanta's eyes delved in his', he could see glimpses of ' _her_ ' in the girl's determined message. For a moment, he remembered _her_ green eyes locking with his', _her_ blonde hair chopped but still flawless and intimidating. She was pretty and strong and hard shelled, _her_ qualities were of a leader, and he was possibly, a little bit more than attracted to _her_.

His hand tightened around the glass, the innocent liquid inside shuddered with the force. He reverted the frustration in that wine, letting it slide inside him like how he let _her_ slip way pass his control. He did not even got the chance to have _her_ touch the tips of his fingers. She just swerved pass him.

Sentiments are the root cause of weaknesses, it does nothing but add salt to the wounds. He certainly prefers what he has now, making his name known and longing to erect towers of his business all over the globe. His life became a constant push and pull of statistics, something he was highly aware of and could be certain if he do so want to check for the answers of his concerns. Certainly, he likes to keep it like that.

The room buzzed with his phone's vibration. He fished for the glowing device from his bed side table, his eyes scanning for the cause of his disturbance. Apparently, it was from his private social media account. One which he uses for the sake of it. He rarely opens his account and his profile was not close to being entertaining at all. He was utterly curious with the sudden notion that he received a friend request.

As seeing the person, he was not at all surprised. Of course, who else would disturb his quiet night with no other than her presence? As if her own breathing just a few rooms away was not enough.

He stared a few moments at the girl in the picture. She was an open book, he decided. Her face was still sporting the same sunny disposition she has in person.

There was no hint of pretension as she showed through her picture her normal bubbly side; she was wearing such ridiculous looking onesie with her equally odd, fluffy slippers, what else could he describe her but silly?

His eyes glanced around, checking for hidden presence that would be possibly studying him. He felt as if he would be doing a sinful thing and it probably looked like it if you were an onlooker- it quite projected such scenario. But in reality, he was just curious of her and all that keeps her entertained. With her energetic and spontaneous vibe, he won't be surprised if he'd see random posts here and there.

He was welcomed by the page's header photo. By the looks of it, it was only recently uploaded- quite a while ago actually. He betted that as soon as she flipped her bum to the bed, she fished for her phone and updated her profile like it was her very own journal.

It was as if Claire's success was not enough, her face appeared in the photo, mocking him as her arm was innocently draped around Olive. He assumed that Claire already had it scripted. Possibly, she also asked for the latter to have it as a highlight in her social media account. It was all for the sake of his comical reaction.

He glared at Olive's peace sign and scoffed. His pride took her gesture as a form of apology. Where else would he get it but from that loose basis?

He stopped as his vision processed Bronwyn Bruntley's face. It had been such a long time since he last saw her smile. To see it made him feel quite bothered and possibly, envious. 'He' left along the homely spirit of the house, dragging their childhood with him. After everything that had happened, he knows they, especially she, deserves to feel release. But still, he cannot just allow himself to forget. On one hand, if she could easily shrug it off, he on the other, cannot.

He saw Horace, Hugh, Millard, and _her_ name listed on the names who reacted. Perhaps, looking through Olive's profile was a bad idea- well, having her around was already too much actually. It was as if her presence would affect him greatly, not just with his annoyance, but with the skeletons he tries so desperately to lock. Knowing her, she would discover them with the help of her curious, prodding bones.

The last drip of his cold wine tasted so bitter against his tongue. In response, his throat constricted itself in defense, closing in, trying to stop the venom from entering. Still though, it trickled down, down, down the hidden appendages of his innermost being.

The pad of his finger barely touched the screen; still though it read. The request was denied.

* * *

In exchange of the blinking lights that guided him at night, the rising sun began to beam across the window of his room. It was as if it was searching for him amidst the blanket, pillows and wine glass. He grumbled before it could touch him, making a bee line to the bath just to wake his core up.

It was a warm first day of the weekend. Usually, he was not needed in the office, more so his schedule pinpoints that he works in the afternoon during saturdays. But due to his circumstances as of now, he was more than ecstatic to go. He wasn't, or will never be, ready to engulf the whole of her and her forced stay (just yet).

He rotated his door knob as silent as he could. Even though she was two rooms away from him, he couldn't help but to act so paranoid. Girls like her could probably hear from miles and miles afar just like how loud their mouths could yell.

The lock clicked and he immediately glanced at his left; where her room stood still, steady and suspiciously quiet. She still must be sleeping, he guessed she does not have anything scheduled for her weekend. How incredibly fortunate of him. Still though, it'll be what, a week? month? Or maybe a year? He knows he couldn't test how far the blessing could reach, sooner or later he has to swallow her presence somehow.

His feet dragged him out of the sunlit room, one toe then the other. He did not realize he heaved out one struggling breath until he loosen his frigid shoulders and felt it leave his nose. He was annoyed for feeling so tensed, yet he could not at some point, shrug the feeling off.

Remember when he thought about how incredibly fortunate he was for not seeing her? Well, that only ended up as a mere thought.

The warmth surrounded itself on the staircase, yellow rays glowed on the pristine, white handle. Upon the middle step, a brown haired figure ascended softly. First was the crown of her head, then her face, 'til down to her fluffy slippers. She tilted her chin once she saw him, her lips forming to one lazy smile that could actually brighten someone's day. It was after all, so honest and innocent, he couldn't help but to feel his lips twitch before he could stop it.

"Good morning, Enoch. Have an amazing day" she greeted. He stared at her as she stretched her arms above her head and widen the pits of her mouth and nostrils, his name ending with a soft yawn.

When her glassy eyes opened, the smile came back on her face. She was waiting for him to respond, in which she did get.. But with only a timid nod.

He pressed on. The remaining steps echoed along the awkward tune she was humming. He felt the uneasiness in the way the melody sounded forced, he couldn't blame her. There was this alarming barrier between them that he had constructed. They were both at each sides, peeking through gaps, yet he had already locked the door.

Thankfully, she let him be. She proceeded to her designated room without any further teasing.

As he enter the kitchen, a sweet aroma enveloped him with an embrace. He looked around, locating the source of his attention, his guardian, Mrs. Dust, was sitting idly upon one bar stool, a smile hidden underneath the pages of her newspaper.

The soft glimmer of the sun's rays served as the light that lit up the marbled counters as well as the pale wooden floor. The smell along with the undemanding way of the sun's smooth traces helped him relax. Accidentally, his lips lifted, a smile sprung before he was aware of it.

If Mrs. Dust has seen it, she did not let him know she reacted.

The black mug steamed the stimulation that partially made his muscles untie from their tight knots. Underneath it was a folded note, closed tight by the weight of the hot cocoa. He glanced at the other occupant of the room and still, she was smiling knowingly. On what? He does not know.

 _Try to have a good time ok? Have a nice day, Mr. O' Connor ;)_

 _Not-your-friend-on-social-media-:(_

"Your son really loves me"

The woman only gave him one studying glance, and continued reading the article she was fixated onto.

He knows Ronaldo wouldn't possibly do such thing, he has his med school and this humongous book he had been complaining and worrying about, to finish reading. Yet, he could not state the obvious, not when Mrs. Dust was secretly watching him with the knowledge he was foreign of. She looked at him weirdly, as if there was something he was missing out. She must be over reacting.

The mug felt warm inside the confines of his cold palms, its aroma stimulating a calm demeanor around the cold marble tiles that enclose him in. He lowered his lips to the lid, the sweet taste of the first sip had delighted his tongue and made his lips quiver with an accidental smile.

It tasted bitter, it tasted sweet.

"Did she wake up just to make me a mug of hot cocoa?" The woman nodded and he scoffed, the note curled inside his now warm palm.

"Silly girl, she doesn't need to do that, I already let her live here did I not?"

"Yet, she did"

Her voice was tight, quite weak and low, but it did made him halt from replying.

* * *

His laptop screen shone artificial sunlight to his office, surrounding him with electric heat that did not fail to annoy. His eyes burn due to his lack of sleep and the words spiraled and swirled in the colorful, radiation rays. He was stressed and pissed, and to top it all off, the possibility of seeing Claire and Horace heightened the pressure as well.

He cupped the note inside his trousers and curled it inside his palm, the pads of his fingers were upon the hints of its foldings, stroking gently.

Somehow, her sincerity crept up to him the way he did not think it could. It bursted in his kitchen that even he, with his refusal to face her existence, felt her like a clutching second skin. She made it clear that she was there, living and breathing, and she doesn't mind having him the way he wanted himself to be. She was childish from head to toe, especially her little heart. Yes, especially that beating organ.

He laid the crumpled paper upon his keyboard, scrutinizing it as if it was an artifact long forgotten by generations. The words imprinted glared at him innocently- the smiley most of all. It reminded him of Olive Elephanta's face when she bid him good morning.

The click of the door knob failed to snap him out of his reverie. Two business suits cladded individuals entered without bothering to knock. And well, in the building, who else have that same thick skins except the two people he was thankful not to come across earlier?

Horace and Claire looked at him with questioning eyes. He would usually bombard them with the errors he'd been seeing in his statistics copy and Claire mentally prepared herself for the extra hot headed Enoch she'd surely encounter, yet there he was, stilled and staring spaciously.

"So, how's Olive?" Claire asked casually, her weight pressing on to one foot and her

eyes were eyeing the blood red apple in her manicured hand.

Meanwhile, upon the rich black office chair in front of Enoch's desk, Horace was observing him. The paper his friend was clutching did not contain any graphs or printed words at all. It was a hand written sentence, simple and even quite childish, but extremely thoughtful and personal. He was struck thinking, just what on earth is Claire up to?

"Do not start Claire, I almost did not sleep last night." Enoch glared at the girl, the obvious dark circles below his eyes were even more prominent.

"Wait, so does that mean Olive kept you up?"

Horace's eyes widen and by the movement of his eyes, he looked at Claire then to the crumpled note inside Enoch's fist. The girl frowned, as if not getting it by the first time, yet the impress was easily seen in her now raised eyebrows when she saw the note Enoch's been clutching.

"So that explains the note then?"

"What-" Before the interrogated was given the chance to answer the interrogating, Claire quickly snatched the note from his fist.

"Oh my gosh-" she said. Her face was an imprint of impress and surprise, she did not think things would carry off so fast.

"What are you on about?"

"Did that come from our little darling?" Horace pointed at the note Claire was still staring at, his voice was soft and calculating, trying to cover the shock and conclusion he and Claire have been hypothesizing. Enoch just frowned, blinking away the frustration and the heeding headache that still occupy his head.

"What?"

"I am talking about Olive, Enoch"

"Ah, her. Yes"

The room went frigid with only two pairs of blinking eyes were moving. The two have felt their breaths hitch in their throats, their minds were busy processing the theory that was all wrong and misunderstood. Enoch, who has no clue as to what they are on about, was glaring at them, too drained to even acknowledge the context of their hysterics.

"Oh my gosh, Enoch. Don't you think you're a little too fast? But who's to say when's the right and wrong time for love right? Certainly not me" It was Claire who broke the tension. Despite her sharp and frigid tendencies, she was uncharacteristically comical at the moment. Her eyes were wide and her mouth was in a mixture of gaping and smiling bemusedly.

"You two keep it safe alright? I am not one to meddle in but if anything bad would happen to our little Olive, forget about our friendship, Enoch" Horace cleared his throat and tried to cover the uneasiness and amusement he felt. Who knew the two mischievous people he know would cross paths? Well, deeper than he ever thought it would be, for sure.

The man however, grew red on the cheeks once he'd let whatever thought the two were having register in his muffled brain. Of course, things like those happen naturally, especially that he is already thirty-one for pete's sake. But he made it clear to himself that it was either _her,_ or no one at all. He was certain nobody could ever be as flawless as _her_.

"Olive Elephanta? I assure you, you have nothing to worry about," he snorted from the humor of it all. It was not that the thought of having someone being attracted to Miss Elephanta was humorous, it was just, well- "She's, well, she's Olive and I'm Enoch. We aren't even friends." And she's just too- right there. Too close of comfort. Too real.

Horace's eyebrows furrowed slightly. He knows for a fact that Fate does not chill. Somehow, at some point, Enoch's statement would backfire him somehow. More so that he sounded as if he was testing Fate with their credibility.

He grew up with the girl. Olive's nothing but darling to him. Quite hyper so, yet her optimistic nature was nothing but adoring.

And Enoch, well, he might look and act coldly, but deep down, he has this heart of gold.

Horace could not help but worry.

Just what on earth did Claire entrust the two in?

* * *

 _I am sorry for the late update! School and life have been meddling in and I cannot seem to have the courage to think and imagine. Still though, despite those, thank you for the views and of course, the reviews! My heart swelled with the attention x_

 _Please do leave a review?_


	6. Opposite Sides:Melting

Disclaimer: I do not own MPHFPC and the Facebook Messenger

 **Chapter Four**

 **Opposite Sides:**

 **Melting**

Olive puffed out an exhale, the sigh and disappointment were clear in her warm tummy. She has her chin upon her cupped palm, her fingers tapping the skin against them. The woman inside the laptop screen only looked at her with a sad but understanding expression, her sympathy clear and very much on the verge of telling the younger lady to give up.

"I could not blame him, Magpie. Though Mr. Enoch has always been a grump, I completely understand why he's restricted. We cannot do anything about that."

Still though, she insisted.

"But Wyn, I do not intend to do something about his temperament, I just want to be his friend." She could not shrug that exact look in his eyes that morning. Although it was fairly obvious that he was trying to avoid her, she still made her presence known- for the reason that she can sense his confusion. And when their eyes met, there was a split second of rawness. She saw curiosity and frustration in them. He was caught off guard and she saw an inkling of truth behind the glass shards he surround himself in. "I just- I know he does not hate me, I saw hesitance in there, Wyn. I may be throwing accusations in the air and often being proved wrong, but it was there and I was wholesomely there"

For the umpteenth time, Bronwyn sighed and smiled, nodding along with her optimistic ways. Olive in response, sighed as well, yet louder and sharp as if one would do before starting a life changing quest.

"Perhaps Miss, perhaps." She could not let Wyn's hesitance discourage her, in fact, if there's anything it contributed, it was the drive that made her more energized to- well, she does not know yet. One thing for sure, it involves Enoch O' Connor.

There was something about him that felt familiar. She certainly does not mean it as a romantic dialogue, well, for now at least, if she could be frank, she does not know how the world goes. Their first meeting went a big OK for her part. She felt as if they were meant to be friends all along, they clashed in a way that she immediately felt at ease around him.

Maybe that was why she wanted to do something for Enoch O' Connor. She knew, by some powerful, foretelling assumption, he'll be something.

She glanced around the figure of the far away dining area she tremendously miss. The house she's in was overwhelming. She's not used to living in such spacious homes, she always tend to occupy every nook and sides, making sure to make them as welcoming as possible. But Enoch's house was a bit eerie, it was way too professional and threatening. No wonder why he's always tensed.

"How are things over there?" She asked

Bronwyn smiled at her sheepishly. Both of them know the other pretty well. When Olive's face scrunched deeply, Bronwyn knew at once that she was focused in her thoughts, thoughts that were surprisingly involving Enoch. And if Bronwyn has her brows tensed, Olive knew she was worried of her.

"Never you mind of anything Magpie, all is well. Sam has been asking nonstop of you, the children were nothing but good-" Olive nodded, smiling amidst the home sickness she's been dreadfully feeling. "Oh little miss, we miss you dearly"

"I miss you too as well, all of you-"

"Keep your head up, you are halfway there. We are proud of you Magpie"

Of course that swelled her heart with millions of touchy sentiments. She almost squealed with joy. One thing which stopped her was that one specific reason why she pursued her passion further. Tomorrow, she would be one step closer to the truth. Tomorrow, she'd start doubling her efforts to be able to reach her. One day, soon, she'd make it.

"Thank you Wyn-I just, if she could see me now, do you think she's proud of me as well?"

* * *

Right after Wyn's reaffirmation and words of comfort, she sensed herself slowly backing away, felt the hot sting of tears behind her eyes. By feeling so, she bid her dear friend an early good night.

She was in her bed, her eyes staring at the pale ceiling above. She was speechless, unable to comprehend her excitement and uncertainty. Her heart was beating loudly and her tears were gently falling to her temples, then to her pillow. She does not know why she was utterly doubtful, but the notion of finally escalating to her search made her nerve wrecked.

"Would you remember me Mummy?" Inside her arms, upon her chest was a pair of cream colored ballet flats. She held them close, her heart was beating against the detergent smelling soles, bringing life to the pair as if those were her mother's arms. How long had it been since that eventful day? For that moment, she was so sure, in her eight year old brain, her mother would come back probably the next day. Instead, all she left for Olive was the pair of flats, which she relentlessly hold onto.

If it was for anything, she hypothesize it was a promise. Didn't the late Miss Peregrine told her she'd meet her again someday? That she left her pair of ballet flats for a purpose?

"Purpose huh?" Her eyes glared, penetrating the motionless ceiling. Questions were left unanswered, tugging her to the shoulders as she felt herself fully awake. Why would she still want to know her? Does her biological mother know she's still alive? Why is she even pursuing such thing too much?

Why is she still haunted by it?

She closed her eyes and worked her fingers, toes and nose to twitch. The emotions were all around her, creating a pool of heaviness, swallowing her within the mattress. A groan left her throat as she associated her feelings with doubt. Is she not optimistic? She knows she is, if only she could pull such spirit against the shadows surrounding her.

The night grew deeper outside the huge window set at the room's side. Her eyes blink back at the lonesome moon, it seems recharging her mind, leaving her tired, yet with senses extremely active.

She placed the pair of shoes to her side, her feet dipping to the warmth of her bunny slippers. Her body swayed to the steady air entering her space, her feet leading her outside.

The white chandelier upon the staircase was still alit, she guessed Mrs. Dust was probably up to drink some milk, or maybe Ronaldo was reviewing for his midterm examination. Her steps upon the stairs were light, she might disturb them if she'd be reckless.

She passed through the corridor and the cold dining room; the balcony door just resting at the far right, tempting her with the serene garden behind. She could go if she wants, she would just have to fetch her comfort food.

The kitchen was quiet except for the irregular tappings upon laptop keyboard. She tilted her head and balanced herself to one foot, her face seen in the gap of the arch way. The sound came from Enoch O' Connor's hands. He was sat facing her, which she knew by then she has no chance to pretend she was a ghost just to spook him.

Immediately, their sight met and his fingers flattened themselves upon the warm counter. She slid inside timidly, her smile limited, quite sheepish, yet soft. "Enoch," she greeted. He, much to her surprise, only looked at her confused and wary. If looks could kill, she might've evaporated on her spot.

"Now, why are you looking at me like that?" She walk pass him across the island counter, her eyes questioning his still lingering ones. Despite the clear white tab from his screen reflecting to his pupils, he dares not to blink. He continued looking at her, trying to find whatever it was he was trying to decipher.

"You are all puffy and pink, Elephanta" She was engulfed in the refrigerator when his statement made her do a mini eye roll. "Allergic reaction, probably" She pulled a gallon of chocolate ice cream from the freezer, then pushed the refrigerator door closed with a soft nudge of her hip.

Her body rotated back to face him. His eyes blinked at her movements and quickly averted his gaze when hers' looked back at him.

"You're not much of a good liar, don't you know that?" She snickered and rummaged for some utensils in the cupboard.

"Not with making up an excuse, no."

He went back with his typing and she began rinsing the mugs she retrieved from their place. The cold running water and the light clicking of the keyboard worked softly. In addition, the soft air from the garden worked its way inside, brushing to the strands that fell in front of her face. She cannot help but smile, feeling the stillness of the exact scenario she was in.

In that moment, strangely, it was just her having him around, and him her. Even if there was hesitance, even if there was still a barrier, she feels comfortable around him, as if she could tell how alike and not they are.

"I did not know you know how to cry"

"Somebody's concerned"

She slid the two mugs on the space of the long counter. He raised his brow at her and she only shrugged, opening the lit of the ice cream gallon in front of his face.

"No, I am just observant"

"You just care about me more than you'd admit" She was midway to scooping her fourth scoop when she joked. He sighed and reverted back to his work. For a moment that is. "Ever the hypothetical one, I see." It only took him a few clicks to finish and before he could respond.

"Whatever, you grump." It was the sweet taste of the chocolate she sucked from her index finger that made her smile. She took one last scoop from the gallon and tipped the cream to the second mug, her mouth voicing a soundless ta-da for an effect.

Next, she pulled the whipped cream from the edge of her workplace, shaking the bottle before tilting it to push the extraction.

"What, what are you doing?"

"Putting some whipped cream on it?" She said as though it was the most obvious thing.

"Why?"

"Well, um sorry to burst your bubble Enoch, everything's better with whipped cream," She was finished sprouting it to her own mug when she repeated the same first step to the other. Enoch stood from his spot, his arms crossed on his chest,"-oh wow, didn't believe that sounded awkward oops" and she still persisted talking, giggling as though he does not intimidate her at all.

"Give me that." He asked, which sounded commanding actually. Yet, she shook her head, her foot backing away once his' ascended.

"No" She inched her occupied hand away from him, stretching to her back awkwardly, her fingers slightly twitching.

"Stop it or else-" his arms, which were far more longer than hers, stretched to their length. She snickered despite being trapped inside his arms. The mug was dangerously tilted now, the whipped cream looking at the side as if curious with what it must be like to stain the pristine floor. Her one available hand reached out in reflex, palm flat and warm on his chest.

She momentarily froze to register the sudden exclamation point that made her blood rush to her cheeks, it happened in split seconds, fast enough for him not to notice, and slow enough for him to have his hand wrap to her hand and the handle of the mug.

He glanced at her eyes as he tightened his grip to the warm skin of her small hand. The height of their excitation died slowly and he felt suddenly aware of how her hand felt inside his. He felt the knuckle of her index finger rise to move and the way the mug tightened in the hold of her hand.

The light slowly crept on the back of their hands, causing them to disentangle.

"Come on, give it a chance Enoch." She settled the mug upon the counter, her hand felt slightly foreign, feeling a ghost of presence upon the back. Her other hand, however, held onto the whipped cream with her index finger ready to push.

He could only stare as the cream oozed out and piled itself upon bulks of the ice cream. Once done, she pushed the mug in front of him, her lips smiling inspiringly that made him roll his eyes.

She leaned her head to her cupped palm, her eyes anticipating for his reaction. He snorted and shook his head, his spoon digging through his mug.

"Well?"

"It tastes like whipped cream and chocolate ice cream"

She laughed with her eyes crinkling at the sides, gauging his disappointed reaction. "For the record, I would only eat this because I do not want it to go to waste," he said through another spoonful of ice cream.

"Well, better stay for a while won't you?" She smiled proudly and sat one seat away from him. There was a pregnant pause with only the clucking of their spoons could be heard. Still though, the time seemed to stop functioning and the moon was still and softly watching.

"What made you cry?" He asked rather suddenly.

Her digging through her own ice cream was put to a stop as she tilted her head to look at him.

"For the record, I am only trying to fill in the silence"

"My mum," her voice sounded strained, yet her expression was still in her usual, smily state. "I just- sometimes I'm not sure if things are worth fighting for anymore"

"I think I am not the perfect person for this position"

"Well, what would Enoch O'Connor do in this situation?"

He glanced at her and all he saw was the small, eight year old version of Olive Elephanta, the one who was raw from the hurt, entirely confused, leaning on to people who were bigger than her. She was suddenly that little girl who looked at him , asking for her mummy he has not seen before. Who made his own ache bleed from his own yearning for his best friend.

"He'd probably drown himself with wine and hide from the sun," he raised his mug and looked at her chastely ",and if I were Olive Elephanta, I'd probably stuff myself with chocolate, and would probably still believe in the goodness of things and all that crap"

She chuckled and nodded.

"After all, life has a way of putting things together"

"If that what keeps you sleep well at night"

The silence filled the kitchen once more. Her eyes looked at him and she smiled. Despite the problem that made her heart heavy, her thoughts were temporarily put to a stop and she finally gained a progress with befriending Enoch.

"I don't mind the silence Enoch, this is comfortable-" she felt slightly disappointment knowing her mug was fully devoured, "-for me atleast"

"Yes, well, I do not have any choice but to tolerate you do I?" She rinsed her mug to the sink and inserted it to the dishwasher, snorting once in the process. "Whatever keeps you sleep well at night, Enoch"

Once the lid was closed, she turned around to look at him. He was circling his spoon in his mug lazily, his ice cream melted into syrup. Still, he did not bother standing from his spot. He was only looking at her, waiting for her reaction as she too was anticipating.

"Well?" She asked, a giggle was halted in her throat.

"Well what?"

She yawned and shook her head. The night went deeper outside the walls they were in, casting them a dream like vibe. To be honest, she found it in herself that she actually like having Enoch around, her mood lightened when she finally talked to him as normal as what they just had, and the disappointment of having her system wanting her to sleep was evident in the lessening of her smile.

"Good night to you too" She did not have to, yet she patted his shoulder, for well, her greeting probably. It was a reflex and she did it before realizing the movement. Enoch was still caught surprised, extremely foreign with close proximities, yet he recovered. He nodded sharply and cleared his throat, pulling his laptop screen open in able to prevent looking at her.

She went back to her room with eyes half lidded. Once in front of her bed, she jumped with all four limbs sprawled out, the mattress engulfing her as though she melted into puddles

* * *

She left quite a while ago. He was sitting there for quite a while as well. The project he'd been working on was already done. He, after all, had already revised some parts for how many times already. Yet, he was still awake, not knowing and extremely bothered by an itch he could not locate. His mind was still active. He blamed Olive Elephanta for it.

He groaned and opened his Facebook account, the one where he keeps tract with updates about people he at least know, never mind if he likes them or not. Usually not to be honest, yet they were still tolerable, he gives them credit for that.

His cheeks grew unexplainably pink. Yet he still clicked through the recent name in his search bar and opened her profile.

He told himself she should know the trouble she caused him.

" _Thanks to you, I cannot sleep"_

There, he sent her one simple sentence. Immediately, she has seen his message and replied right after.

 _"Why is it my fault?"_

 _"Don't you know chocolates could keep a person active?"_

 _"Well, that is not the effect with me"_

 _"Probably because you sleep a lot"_

 _"I do not :("_

He shook his head and decided to leave her reply unanswered. She unfortunately, luckily-he cannot seem decipher yet, sensed what he was doing and sent another one.

 _"Would you like to talk to me?"_

 _"Well, it is your fault so I guess you should suffer as well"_

 _"Wow, that was mean"_

 _"I only speak the truth"_

 _"I'm going to sleep Enoch"_

 _"You could not"_

 _"Gooooood niiiiiiiight x"_

 _"I'll barge into your room Olive Elephanta"_

 _"But you rejected my request :("_

 _"Don't be silly"_

 _":("_

He does not know if it was the chocolate, but he was certain he would go insane if he'd consume the whole midnight just staring into space and thinking about things that should be partnered with wine.

And so shamefully, he still found his way to clicking her request button. Which in less than a minute, she accepted.

 _"Didn't know you would actually do it though"_

 _"Whatever, I could still block you"_

 _"I'd convince you to unblock me then I'd block you_ "

He snorted and let her light mood affect him. The night progressed outside their windows until sunrise arose and the hint of morning came. The rays of the sun had already found him with arms wrapped together and his head resting upon them, dozing off. This time, he did not hide from the sun, he let it melt him to his seat, seemingly comfortable with the warmth it wrapped him with.

* * *

 **Thank you for reading, please do leave a review x**


	7. Opposite Sides: Driving in circles

An early apology for those who have knowledge with ballet or are taking ballet classes. I am not at all familiar with them so please excuse the ballet scenes if they are wrong and inaccurate.

I just watched the film and it was not as bad as I thought it would be; I was extremely upset with the changes and some plot holes but despite that, it was still magical. I mean look at the house, Enoch's dolls, the costumes and the details, wow, good ol Tim at it again!

I aldo realized how different Olive and Enoch were depicted in the film. Again, this story is inspired by the book Olive and book Enoch :) just older and well, without their peculiarities.

Oh and I would also like to apologize for the late update! School has been such a stress :( Even so, I still hope you'd leave a review!

* * *

 **Chapter 5:**

 **Driving in circles**

The sun flashed lightly against his eyelids and his neck felt stiffed from the long hours of craning. He woke up with a long groan and grumpy brows, his eyes searching for the sun to glare at it. It was seven in the morning and he was one hour late from his usual morning routine(and had drifted from his night ones as well).

He did not know just what in the world had made him that comfortable with Olive Elephanta. Yet, he somehow ended up tolerating her emoji addiction and imaginative scenarios 'till the night turned dusky. For pete's sake, he does not know why he even let her sleep earlier than him after all those time wasted, stomaching her bizarre questions.

"Good morning oh darling knight, did you stay up late for the assurance of the lady's sleep?" He was shaken by Ronaldo's voice. It now struck him that by being late, of course he wouldn't be the second person to wake up- the first one was usually Mrs. Dust because she prepares their breakfast and tends the plants. He shifted his head left then right, finding Ronaldo peeking from his shoulder. "Did I permit you to pry on my private affairs Ronaldo?" He shamefully shut the laptop screen down before Ronaldo could read further. The brown skinned man had noticed the slight blush on the older man's cheeks and snickered, an obvious and teasing glint in his kind eyes.

"Oh the start of a new chapter sure is thrilling"

"You and Mrs. Dust have the habit of saying such troubling things" The younger man shrugged, walking away from his accusations and leave him to digest his words.

He sighed and reopened his laptop to shut it down. The chat box was still open and the last chat was sent by him. She asked him some interesting questions such as if he was ever an animal what would he be? and he'd answer he'd rather be an octopus because they are capable of cognition, are mischievous, and as introverted as he. And she'd answer she'd rather be a penguin because they all seemed so fluffy, innocent and are hopeless romantics.

 _Olive: It's almost 3 am and I'm still wide awake_

 _Enoch: I am going to sleep now. Good night_

 _Olive: Wait, don't sleep yet!_

 _Enoch: I have to or else ghosts would creep up on me_

 _Olive: ..._

 _Enoch: They said if you wake up without any reason at 3 in the morning, someone's watching you._

 _Olive: ..._

 _Enoch: Well, I am terribly tired Miss Elephanta. Good night, you'll need it._

 _Olive: Don't sleep on me! You woke me up!_

 _Enoch: Scared?_

 _Olive: I'm not scared, you are._

 _Enoch: *seen*_

 _Olive: Enoch, don't you dare sleep on me!_

 _You're being unfair!_

 _Enoch ._

 _That is so rude :(_

 _Don't make me come down there!_

 _Enoch: You can't, the hallways are already dim_

 _Olive: I'll make a run for it_

 _Enoch: It's already 2:50 am_

 _Olive: I'll make a run for it, to your room. I'll sleep in your room._

 _Enoch: Pffft, you won't._

 _Olive: Enoch :(_

 _Enoch: what_

 _Olive: sigh_

 _Enoch: good night_

 _Olive: :/_

 _:(_

 _:'(_

 _:'O_

 _,.,_

 _,o,_

 _Enoch: just go to sleep Miss Elephanta_

 _(2:52 am)_

 _If there's someone watching you, it'll be me_

 _(2:57 am)_

 _just to shut you up ok?_

 _(3:00 am)_

The dining table had some tension Enoch could possibly drown in. Mrs. Dust and Ronaldo kept on staring at him across the table, the man specifically, eyed him with a silly grin. He, along with his mother, could not get over the chat he had witnessed from the usually private and avoidant man's social media account.

He nibbled on his piece of toast as he glared at Ronaldo. The med school student giggled and raised his thick book to hide from him.

"Med school has gotten such toll on Ronaldo, Mrs. Dust" He tipped the teapot on his cup, filling the porcelain. The steam oozes out lazily and he twirled his spoon in the liquid, staring at the swirling direction without a thought in mind.

"No my dear, Olive hasn't climb down just yet." The calm voice of Mrs. Dust startled the two. Ronaldo smiled in a winning fashion, directing his thumbs up to his mother. Apparently, as mature as he pictures her to be, she is still very fond of teasing people. He just experience it just now, and with a bubbly girl named Olive Elephanta.

* * *

Olive woke up from the wet fabric of her pillow. She groaned in disgust, swiping the back of her hand to the cold liquid on her chin. Her eyes looked down to the blinking light of her phone, grabbing it with one grasp. She then swiped the screen and smiled as Enoch's messages greeted her.

 _Just go to sleep Miss Elephanta_

 _(2:52 am)_

 _If there's someone watching you, it'll be me_

 _(2:57 am)_

 _just to shut you up ok?_

 _(3:00 am)_

She stood from her bed and stretched her arms, puffing out an exhale as she smiled to the sun that greeted her back.

 _Whatever ;)_

Right after a couple of minutes, her phone vibrated unexpectedly. She glanced sideways and fetched it, stressing the power button.

 _Look at the time Miss Elephanta_

 _(7:05 am)_

"Oh my, oh my, oh my, shi-shoot, shoot." Upon seeing the time, her body went into fight and flight mode. Adrenaline filled her system and she immediately rushed to her closet and fetched the pile she had readied for the eventful day.

As if Enoch had exactly predicted what she's doing, he sent another chat for her to read.

 _Yes. The car would be waiting outside_

 _(7:05 am)_

* * *

Unlike how it was when he woke up, the sun was not harsh against his eyes by 7:15. Sharon was playing rock music in the radio system of the sedan, drumming against the wheel along the rhythm of the song that was currently playing. Still though, he was staring at the screen, waiting for Olive; who was running late for the first day of the reason why she even bothered traveling to East London.

Another song, which still involves drums and electric guitars, have started and still, Olive Elephanta hasn't made her appearance seen.

"Still?"

"We have no choice Sharon"

"You do have a choice, yet you choose to wait for the girly"

He shook his head and remembered Mrs. Dust's words regarding Olive's hot chocolate and note. Maybe it was because of her genuine kindness that made him feel as if he need to at least tolerate her presence, or to give back the chaste gesture she gave him.

If only he realizes just how much toleration he's actually giving.

Just when he was preoccupied with his evaluation, the door bursted open and a wide eyed Olive was puffing loads of harsh intakes and outtakes of breath. He glanced at her and immediately noticed what she dressed herself into. It was quite, well, noticeable, really. The black sleeveless top and silky leggings were hugging her frame, dipping gently to places he was not allowed to look at.

"Well look who's way too attractive for the morning"

He cleared his throat and scooted over, glaring at her face to appear bored and threatening. "Why thank you, Sharon, you're looking quite dapper yourself" She climbed in and was desperately trying to save the two loaves of toast in her left hand. He watched in amazement as her ballerina outer persona look quite different with how she is as a person.

She glanced at him through the side of her eyes, looking at him as he scan her with confusion written in his'. Her free hand touched the loose bun behind her head, raising it up in hopes of ascending it. He continued to observe, inwardly confused by the different side of Olive he was seeing. Her face was bare and bold, the usual hanging waves of hers were piled up although loosely, but still neatly, in a bun.

Yet though, she stuffed the toasts into her mouth and he shook his head in amazement. It was still just Elephanta.

He cleared his throat once again, removing his stare to direct on the window next to him.

The trees pass by and they curved down to neighboring houses. The music blared from the speakers yet the sound of Olive's munches were louder.

It was quite surreal, having somebody around when he'd been used to going to work without, say, those munches next to him. The vehicle then felt suddenly new to him. A new scent lingered through the circulation of the air conditioner. Of what was once pure leather, then came the smell of peaches. He vaguely wonders if that is what his life is now.

They momentarily stop under the stoplight when he glanced at her. Apparently, she already finished her toasts and was now silently frozen, staring at the road ahead.

"I cannot believe you'd sleep late before an eventful day like this." He attempted to dismiss whatever it was that he'd been sulking about. He felt her shift next to him, her face, soft and pretty, looked at him with scrunched brows. She was about to fire back when she detected the teasing in his voice. It was still just Enoch.

"Well, you know what they say, always make an impression on your first day." She scooted closer, nudging his shoulder with her bare one. He saw Sharon's eyes dart quickly at him, their eyes meeting at the mirror hanging in front, then off of him as though he did not catch him staring. Everybody's acting plain weird these days, it was probably the effect Olive has on people.

"Miss Elephanta, tardiness is not a good look if you're trying to impress someone"

"Well, I'd like think I could still be special," she pointed out, yet her relaxed smile decreased in length once she caught a look at the time on his wristwatch, "-do you think they could see it?" and asked afterwards, her eyes following the same frowning of her lips.

Sharon and Enoch exchanged glances on the mirror, they both knew they were about to reach the workshop she's enrolled in. The clock also reminded them it was ten pass eight, which means she's already late for quite a while now. The ride went by smoothly, yet still, they left the house quite later than expected.

He looked at her and fought the urge to nudge her as well.

"Well, I have not seen you perform just yet but you won't be here if you aren't good Elephanta," he stated. Olive smiled and nodded, accepting his logic and lets it sink in in her system. Sharon however, groaned and shook his head at his oblivious boss.

"Olive, listen girly, you go out there and show 'em what you got aye? I know you'd do be flawless" he told her, grinning widely through the mirror. Olive grinned back, showing her two thumbs up.

"Thanks Sharon"

Their vehicle curved right and by the near end of the street was a building with a platform that has Olive's workshop name written across. They pressed on, stopping once they've went over the parking space available. Enoch glanced at Olive curiously, she has her hand around the knob yet her face was tensed.

"Olive?" Out of wonder he accidentally called her by her name. That brought her out of her trance and turned sharply to him.

"Yes, what am I doing? I can do this" She pulled the knob and inhaled a large intake of fresh air. Her toe stepped down, then the other, and at last she was out of the car. Enoch continued to look after her, staring at the back of her neck, her loose bun still in place.

"Enoch?"

"Yes?"

"Go easy on them alright?"

"You too, Elephanta"

* * *

She breathe in deeply, forcing her head to tilt the way they were taught to. The glass door was just a meter away, then a foot, finally an inch. Behind the door, she was entirely aware of the stares, but the tension in her body made her numb. She cannot think straight but what else can she do but be herself?

Once she had pulled the door, the classical tune from the stereo stopped. She made a quick turn on the mini stage in front, where a woman no more than forty glared at her with a pair of icy eyes.

"I am sorry I'm late Madame" she said, her determined voice overlapping the tension that coiled in her tummy.

The woman climbed down gracefully, her feet carrying her as though she was floating. She tilted her head at Olive, her eyes scanning the younger woman, though without the disgust Olive had imagined she'd have.

"Why are you late, Miss-" she waved her hand, asking for her name as well. "Is it perhaps, because of the traffic?"

"Miss Elephanta. Olive Elephanta, I'm-" Olive shook her head and tried to calm herself down. She felt judging eyes stare at her from behind, and at times like these she doesn't back down without a fight. "No there weren't any traffics. I do not have a valid excuse, I'm afraid. I stayed up late because Eno-my friend did not let me sleep, I am terribly sorry, Madame Wren."

The woman nodded sharply, her eyes were still icy and posture still fixed.

"It is very irresponsible of you Miss Elephanta. Though I admire your bravery and honesty. I do so hope you'd convince me that you deserve the chances I am giving"

Enoch.. Even though he was awkward with his answer a while ago, she felt the sincerity of his words. Of course, why would they get her if she was no good right? They do not have a clue that she was the forgotten daughter of Constantine Abroholos. She's almost there, she's closer to the truth. She wouldn't give up, not just yet.

"Yes Madame, I would not disappoint you. Thank you for your kindness"

"Very well then, go to the barre and practice your fondue and plié. Everyone, we'd begin our leçon, namely the Cecchetti Method at exactly 8:30. Afterwards, I would explain our repertoire. Again, may I repeat the reward for our monthly tasks. Whoever would excel the most in projects would be given the chance to star in the shows, so work hard on yourselves and express your individual lights. Carry on"

* * *

They had such a busy day. The company has a new couple that would be in deep need of their services. The wedding was to be rushed, the woman was with child and they needed to be wedded before her due. They held a promising preposition if the company could succeed with providing a marvelous service for them. Enoch and the rest of the board had accepted knowing how much of a blessing it was to have them as customers. They were an influential couple, they could help promote the catering business.

And so Enoch had everything listed and he begins to plan. He brought his work home, carrying his briefcase and loading his laptop a full battery. The night began to dim outside the East London streets and he instinctively wondered if Olive was already home.

Much to his surprise, she was still not. He strode in the house, tried to secretly sense some Olive-like movements in the kitchen, and also passed her room, yet without hearing any noise coming from her.

"Do you know where Olive is, Enoch?" Ronaldo asked once he sat across him at the dining table. It was already thirty minutes after nine and she said the workshop would end at exactly eight.

"I-" Ronaldo was looking at him hopefully and he in turn, side eyes stared at the vacant spot next to him, where she already sat on for two days now. Isn't she new in East London? Why on earth would she stay up late at the foreign streets? "I'll try to chat or call her. Really Elephanta, you impossible girl"

He opened his phone and picked her name in his recent chats.

 _Elephanta, are you lost?_

 _(9:31 pm)_

He tapped his fingers upon the table, the food upon it looked as if they were glaring at him.

Mrs. Dust left the kitchen and sat next to her son. She was studying Enoch from across the table. He brought his eyes up and asked.

She leaned on to her son and whispered something in his ear. Enoch only stared as the two spoke in hushed whispers. He sighed and tried contacting her once more. She still hasn't seen his chat and he poked the call button to try and reach her.

The sound only echoed again and again, multiple times. She was not picking up. Why is she not picking up?

"Really, Elephanta?"

 _You're worrying Mrs. Dust and Ronaldo, shame on you._

 _(9:33 pm)_

"Mum said you should try and fetch her" Ronaldo suggested midway in trying to take his first bite. There weren't any teasing being projected onto him and that made him slightly nervous. He formulated ideas in his head, those of which could not help but deepen his anxious feeling.

He nodded absent mindedly. Without dressing into a much more comfortable set of clothes, he pressed on in his dress shirt and trousers. The cold evening air passed by his skin and he felt a frightening familiarity within them. His heart pumped loudly in his chest and he felt his breath quicken.

Still though, he managed to get in his sedan. The engine started and he closed his eyes to try and make sense of what he was feeling. That was not the right time for him to think about Victor. Yet, his mind fooled him, processing pessimistic thoughts that possibly, Olive was in the same place as his late best friend.

He drove and drove without thinking properly. The road seemed straight, his location seemed exact. His palms were crummy and he felt his stomach tie in knots.

Elephanta, you impossible woman.

He curved to the same spot they stopped that morning. The glass door was still open and the platform's sign was still alit. He rested his head at the cushion of his seat, closing his eyes tightly as he felt another wave of panic run in his system.

It happened 18 years ago, yet still, he couldn't let go of it. He could not let go of Victor. It was all his fault.

His phone buzzed and his hand clutched it too tightly. Olive had received the chat and replied thereafter.

 _I am so sorry Enoch, oh my gosh tell them my apologies. We sure worked like ants today. Don't worry, Zachary would take me home_

 _(9:50 pm)_

He breathed deeply before replying

 _I am outside the building_

 _(9:50 pm)_

He planted his forehead against the steering wheel and collected himself. He does not allow her to see him like that, not when she triggers some strands in him that she was not aware of. She's alive and he's being extremely irrational at the moment.

Soft tappings were applied against the screen of the door. When he opened his tired eyes to look, Olive looked the opposite. She was in a state of energy and happiness. Next to her stood a man who was probably much closer to her age. He sported a boyish grin and spiky brunette hair upon his head, his green eyes focused on the optimistic girl.

He unlocked the door and let the rush of air in. Olive waved her fingers, though unfortunately for her, he was in a worser mood. He only glared steadily at her.

"Enoch, this is Zachary, my cavalier." As if she was oblivious of his struggle, which she actually is, she had the energy to introduce the boy that might've cultivated a reason for her to stay.

"He could be the next big thing for all I care, Elephanta, let's go" he snapped back, eyeing the pretty boy that glared at him with confusion and annoyance. Zachary was clearly not used to being ignored.

Olive stood stunned. She looked at the boy next to her, then to the man in the sedan. Slowly, she entered the seat next to Enoch and smiled sheepishly to her new found friend, muttering a good bye.

Once out of earshot, she turned her head to look at her companion, studying his facial structure in hopes of reading what he might be thinking. Yet, like how he is, he strapped the usual mask he always sports. He concentrated on the road ahead, a blank and bored expression on his face. She did not know what to do then because she felt guilt at it's finest. Deep down, she knows she messed the fragile friendship they've grown for the last 24 hours.

She fished for her phone and typed, glancing once or twice to him, checking his reaction.

 _I'm sorry I made you lot worry :(_

 _(9:57 pm)_

"Read the message" Enoch's voice startled her and she pretended to be coy

"What message?"

"Leave it then"

She sighed and gulped. Her cheeks went red but because she wanted him to forgive her, she'll do as he says.

"I'm sorry I made you lot worry, sad face, from Olive Elephanta"

Still though, Enoch stayed still, his face, basking the blankness that he loves wearing. When she saw him like that, she felt dread in her that she could not describe. They were back from the start, he shifted away from her.

If only he knows just how much she cares.

"What is it Enoch? What happened?" She doesn't know just what she was implying in it. But she felt him flinch.

"I do not have the energy to talk to you, Elephanta." He said coldly.

She bit her lower lip and succumbed in the cushion behind her, her eyes staring blankly at the road ahead. For all of the things she assumed, surely she is right with the new one. Enoch O'Connor repressed all the hurt and anger that he must've experienced and often blame himself for all of it.

Her heart ache for the reason that he does not realize how incredibly human he could be.

That he is capable of feeling hurt. Capable of accepting care and warmth.

 _I care_

 _(10:05 pm)_

"Too much" she whispered.


	8. Opposite Sides: Caring

Hullo! _Merry Christmas everybody! I am terribly sorry for the late update x This chapter is alot better in my head but I still hope you like this one! Please, please do review x_

 _Warning: Subtle mentions of organ theft_

* * *

 **Chapter Six**

 **Opposite Sides:**

 **Caring**

 _I do not have the energy to talk to you_

 _I do not have the energy to talk to you_

 _I do not_ -

The duvet went flying to the air as sudden as she jumped from the suffocating mattress. At first, she succumbed herself to the soft and silky texture of her bed, finally embracing the thought of living the rest of her East London life holed up in her room. She could suffer in guilt with her comforters just to not see Enoch ignore her so blatantly. The plan worked for the last nine hours until she realized it was not close to comfort at all.

She cupped her face in her two palms, rubbing them furiously to her frowning expression. Try as she might, she could not erase the statement that made her guilt rise and take over. He, at one point in her dreams, popped up, looked at her through blank eyes and walked away. It felt so real, she woke up puzzled and slightly stressed.

There was an inner debate in her thoughts. One would argue for her to face whatever it is waiting for her outside the vicinity of her room, pretend nothing happened and try to do a heroic deed to compensate the trouble she caused, and the other pleaded for safety. The latter kept on pushing her to hide, vaguely reminding her that it was her fault he skipped dinner yesterday, her fault Mrs. Dust slept late, her fault Ronaldo received a keener glare from his already glaring face.

The door seemed staring at her, awaiting for her impatiently. Slowly, her feet dragged her out. Even though there was hesitance and her mind might have screamed far effective enough, she reminded herself that she was a ride or die chick. She followed Claire without an inkling of idea how she'd survive or even have an affirmation that she'd be treated right, yet she still went. Surely she could go through the situation as well.

Mustering a clean new page, she climbed down with her toes and legs numb from the nerves. The sun was still soft against the huge window, her skin basking to the golden trace as thin hairs illuminate upon their pores. Compared yesterday, she woke up early and fully prepared. She knew it must've been because she barely slept at all.

The smell of coffee wrapped her in a comforting embrace, she sighed from the aroma, following the direction of its trace; not that she needed it at all, she basically marked the kitchen as her second haven.

When she reached the arching frame of the dining room, it was just in time to see Mrs. Dust exit from the kitchen with Ronaldo in tow, carrying two plates on each of their hands. The older woman gave her a small smile while Ronaldo greeted her a good morning. She replied a sheepish grin, relieved that they were sincere and welcoming.

The two pulled theirs chairs and sat at the other side of the table; they usually sit across her and Enoch. She was about to follow their lead, but the seat next to hers reminded her of the man she still cannot fully face. She stood there still and spaced out, inwardly debating with herself whether to sit down or not.

"Well?" Ronaldo looked at her with an amused look. She huffed in annoyance, not meaning for them to see her struggle.

"Well what?"

"The food isn't going to eat itself you know," he grabbed his fork and popped a piece of the sausage to his mouth ",and he won't eat you as well".

She sighed, plopping her weight to the seat halfheartedly. "I'm sorry, gosh I am so annoying. I only have one job but I couldn't settle myself down." She only had one job yet she failed tremendously in it. She respects if he wouldn't forgive her after the careless stunt. "I might as well just drag my sorry arse back to Cairnholm".

Through her down casted eyes, Mrs. Dust and Ronaldo exchanged glances. They communicated with their eyes, often casting wary looks on her scalp. With what seemed like a long heartbeat or two, the woman nodded to his son.

Ronaldo cleared his throat for her attention. "The thing about Enoch, Olive, he, well, he is not black and white. Did you ever wonder what story lies behind our past?"

She glanced at the two identical pairs of hazel eyes staring back at her. To be honest, Mrs. Dust's long faint scar on her neck sprouted questions in her head for quite a while now. The older woman would usually wear shawls that cover her from neck down. She often tries to shrug her curiosity by simply shutting herself up. The shawl hinted Olive to just mind her own business and let such sensitive topic be.

Years and years of living with Bronwyn, the other kids, and her own tale made her see things as how waves goes. One should just let it be and go with them for an assured harmony. If one would need privacy, she would give them such without any hurt at all.

Seeing her too engrossed in her thoughts of what could probably be their mysterious case, Ronaldo then continued. "My mother and father did some things their own mouths could not utter proudly of. Before this peaceful life, they lived day by day stealing.. valuable things from people in exchange of quick money. It was hell every single day Olive and my mum does not approve of such atrocity. Yet, she stayed, she stayed because she was the only one knowledgable enough to do the procedure without ending the victim's life." Olive opened her mouth slightly, reveling on the plot that has been unfold to her. With misty eyes, Ronaldo's voice quivered as he continued. "One day, my- my biological father saw this little boy who reeked with money and power. If my mother was skilled with all things medical, he was skilled with reading people, He smelled an opportunity and he made it clear that he'd be an easy catch since that little boy's parents seemed well, occupied. He made my mother agree to lure him into his trap and she reluctantly went. But that boy Olive, that boy looked at her suspiciously yet he still followed. The moment he told her he trusts her was the moment my mother knew she has to protect him, no matter what it costs. She told father how guilt stricken she was and they should stop such horrendous act, yet he, with his temper, threw a rampant. He pulled the boy from her, suggesting to do the procedure himself, yet she refused. That little boy was the last straw to her blind devotion. She became a victim to his playing knives, although at that last moment, he-" Olive swiped hot tears from her eyes and she was aware that Ronaldo was fighting a sob from coming out. Mrs. Dust next to him was silent, but her eyes were evident with unshed tears. She grabbed both of their hands and squeezed, "-that bastard whisked his knife, only for it to meet her intruding neck. He ran off out of sheer panic, leaving her bleeding with a terrified child sobbing loudly. There were sirens heard from above the alley they were in and she recalled the child's parents calling him Enoch"

Ronaldo looked up at her, basking to the shock that must've been written on her face.

"He saved not just my mother, but also me, Olive. His family took us in, treating us as if we were their own. His parents sent us to Cairnholm in hopes to capture the bastard that almost took their child. My mother gave birth to me and since then, Enoch became my brother. Someone I look up to. For six years, we were in hiding until my father was captured and he- life was not easy for Enoch as well but that is a story I am not in the position to tell." He ended the story with a comforting smile. Olive frowned and found her own heart in agony. Aside from the guilt in her system, there was something that lingered and clutched her stomach. She was dreading to see him.

She picked her fork and munched, her eyes transfixed to her brim. Thoughts have been buzzing in and out of her mind and for once, she was left unaware of what she truly feels. For one thing, she was extremely glad with how life became kind to the two deserving people she knows, but on the other, contrary to when she always believed she could easily distinguish herself, she was feeling quite alot, she cannot comprehend them all at once.

"I am not trying to make you feel sympathy or even see him as perfect when he clearly is not. That impossible man could be such a dick most of the time. But like I said Olive, he is not simply black and white, and I know that you could see that," the last statement made her halt. Ronaldo nodded but still added a few spices to his point, "and underneath it all, he could, as well"

"Ronaldo, I am thankful that you and your mother were given the chance to have these second lives, you guys truly deserve this fresh start. Enoch, he- you're right, I refuse to see him the way others do." The last thing she wanted Enoch to feel was her, frightened by him.

Overall, she knew that everything she felt was due to the state of the inexplainable friendship she has with Enoch. For such a short span, she truly cares for him. Ever since day one, he did nothing but be true to her and surprisingly, his presence causes her such delight. And out of pure intentions, she showed him her true self as well.

He told her how hard people has to cope in order to get along with him. Usually, they end up adjusting, forcing frigid respect, viewing him as foul or simply, shallow. Days of being seen with those ticked pairs of eyes' must've made him believe them somehow. The world must've made him feel terrible in the skin he was in, and heart he has beating.

She swallowed, busying herself with the food she was trying so hard to taste despite her tensed state.

Right on cue, ten minutes later and when she was just about to finish her mug of coffee, Enoch made his appearance to the dining room. Unfortunately, Mrs. Dust and Ronaldo just happened to finish their own sets of meal and exchanged glances at each other, curiosity were ebbed in their eyes as they await for whatever it is that'll happen between the two tensed adults.

Olive blinked and raised her eyes to look at him. Her guilt lessened when she saw his state. Clearly, he slept more than she did; she looked as if she crammed one week's work into one night and all she needs was coffee to keep her sane. Consciously, she moved some wild strands from her face, trying to fill in the gaping, unmoving silence.

One of his brows lowered slightly, yet he stopped himself from making a full on frown at that time of the day. Her eyes were not afraid to show the guilt that shine from them and he felt as if she already knew the damage she caused that she does not deserve to be tortured with his cold shoulder.

He sighed inwardly, yet Olive saw how his tensed shoulders became eased and relaxed.

"Good morning Enoch" Thus, she decided to greet him, testing the waters, yet it ended up lame and weak. Her mug inside her hands were nothing beside the heat that crawled on her cheeks.

He gave her a sharp nod, sitting himself to the chair next to her. She raised her mug to the point of her lips, kissing the lid slightly, arranging the sides to a sheepish smile. With such, Mrs. Dust and Rolando nodded to no one, walking away from the scene in front of them.

Her sips were slow, collecting the heat and bittersweet taste upon her tongue, it calmed her somehow. On her side, she kept staring at him. Enoch seemed unaware of her eyes. He raised his own mug, sipped one sharp intake and settled it upon the table with a resounding exhale. Then, with a slight glance to her- he held her gaze for a heartbeat long, he started eating.

She sighed, clasping her mug tightly inside her hands. She knows the difference between uneasy and relaxed silence like how she knows the difference between her and Emma Bloom; growing up, she always wanted to be like her, yet life seemed to have other plans in line. And so she brushed her strands to the back of her ear and looked at him directly, swallowing her heart for it to go back in her chest.

"Hey Enoch?"

He fixed her his usual nonchalant expression, "yes?"

"I just want to apologize. I was inconsiderate, I should have thought about how dangerous it could get out there, being as I am just a tourist here. You welcomed me to your home, all you ever wanted was for me to do my job well, and I failed you," she breathed in and gave him a small, sheepish smile, "I'm sorry".

He frowned, his dark brows and dark rims hooding his blue eyes. She fought herself from glancing away, she was determined not to back down. Then, those hardened expression slowly softened, he shook his head and turned away.

"You don't need my forgiveness to stay, Ms. Elephanta"

He continued eating, ignoring the defeated look upon her face. Her lips quirked and she sighed, standing up from her seat with her plate and mug on hand.

She frowned, seemingly upset. Behind the archway to the kitchen, she saw Mrs. Dust and Rolando smiling and bonding over washing the dishes, she then remembered the thoughts that were being quieted down ever since he came. She shouldn't give up with just one rejection, he was more than that.

And he needs to know it whether he likes it or not.

"You are my friend and you are important to me. I can't just go around living my life when I know I've wronged you. I am not that type of person to run away from people I care about. I fight for them". She waited, standing upon her spot like an idiot. She knows there wasn't a big of a chance he'll reply, and she was right. She forced a smile, relieved that she finally crossed whatever she wanted to say. It was a new day, she knows it'll be kinder.

* * *

The new day was definitely not kinder. For one, Olive Elephanta ripped her heart out for him to see that he was infact, inside there somewhere. Then, the soon to be Mrs. Avocet, updated them with the date they saw fit.

And it was not a date he saw fit. No, not at all.

Nobody inside the company knows about how much he suffers during that day. He might've had experience some tear jerking moments in his life, but that memory left him scarred. He couldn't just let go of it.

How can he do so if, every time September twenty-two comes along, the sound of the coming waves resonate in his head, bringing him back the image of the lifeless body that belonged to his best friend?

He bumped his head, once, twice, upon his steering wheel. Olive Elephanta did not know how much she utterly affects people. He was willing to forget about his episode that night, yet she had other plans in mind. She held him up with her hands and flat out, unintentionally, asked him to be raw. He was important to her. And he knows it was true.

But how can he let her in if he doesn't know how? If he does not usually show himself to anyone and he was content with that?

Yet, the thumping of his heart beat quite erratically and Victor's voice whispered inside his head.

If he was there, he might've told him to stop being such a dick to that pretty and friendly girl.

But Victor wasn't there, he's dead. He's dead. He's dead.

and it was all his fault.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he knew how much he craved for the impossible. And that impossible hid him well from the outside world. Emma Bloom was impossible for him to take, Victor Bruntley cannot be risen from the dead. And that boy didn't like being awaken from his sleep.

He was a coward, always behind the fantasies of denial. Utterly pessimistic. So alone.

The red light shone, dangling on the post. His tears went cold upon his cheeks, sticky and shining at the right light. He snorted, disgusted with himself. Yet, still, he felt the same hollow feeling inside his chest. His thoughts were shouting at him, taunting him with words he knows he was.

Why was he thirty and still lost?

What a mess.

It was a heartbeat of a decision yet he decided to follow the impulse. The trees began to collect themselves aplenty, they lined next to one another as if leading him to the perfect spot. Indeed it does.

The road was familiar and foreign all at once. It was not the usual drive to the way home, yet he goes there occasionally, when he needs a good shout or moment of deep silence and tranquility. The sun was weak behind the dark old road, and he followed.

Broad spacings between cabins and diners lengthened. He could see familiar faces inside the food places as well. There weren't much in that side of east London, but he felt attached to it by the comfort it provided him. Somehow, it could be Cairnhold if he'd squint.

He parked to the patch of soil and grass, glancing his gaze up to the slight uphill that'll lead him to the cliff. The wind decided to be cooperative and grazed pass his skin with the right amount of coldness he needed. His dress pants looked awkward, wrinkling here and there, yet his black shoes stood their ground, climbing himself erect. He also did not mind that his tie continuously slap his chest.

The sound of slapping waves caused terror inside his chest, but he ushered forward. The slight uphill of the cliff ended when all he ever felt underneath the soles of his shoes were pebbles and hard swells of some rocks. The skies above welcomed him back with their fluffy gray clouds, softening the blue that once shone upon the glistering of the deep sea below.

He stood five steps close to the precipice, far enough that he'd need not to worry if he'd fall and close enough for him to see the movements of random sways and the crashing of the waves against the cliff.

Right then, he started to laugh hoarsely, frowning as if in pain. And he was. He closed his eyes for a minute, collapsing mentally to the familiar sounds of the sea and how it punished him so. He gritted his teeth, his lips stretching, and he screamed.

Broken cries erupted from his throat. He shouted for his anguish, for the pain he does not know how to let out and to let go.

His hands balled into fists and soon, he was throwing stones in the wind, watching them fly and then be gone. How they float against the air viciously and fall way too fast.

Everything happened way too fast. He was gone way too fast.

And Enoch was left with the pieces of the memory. He was way too slow with forgetting.

He sat upon the ground, messy and tired. The shallow depth captivated him to a trance that silenced his anguish. He only stared, his mind was left with nothing to think about. The weak sun still shined, but it lowered down bit by bit until the sea swallowed it whole. He couldn't help but snort.

The silence was interrupted with the sound of his phone alerting him for a call. He breathed in and out to calm himself. His quivering hand fished his phone from his pocket, glancing to an unfamiliar number he hadn't encounter before.

He swiped the screen and waited for the other line.

"Hello Enoch?"

Olive Elephanta's voice surprised him. On the other end, she sounded unsure and worried. Aside from greeting or offering formality and pleasantries, he instead responded: "How did you get my number?"

And her usual mirth came back with her honest response. "I got it from Rolando. I planned on surprising you by coming home early, then I'd ask for your number, but you're not here." There was a slight pause before he could hear her sigh and continue. "I understand that you're still mad at me. If you want, I could lock myself in my room or rent a hotel room just to get away, or yeah, stay in that hotel room you're in, I won't beg you to come home but, please tell me you'd be alright? Mrs. Dust, Rolando, and I am really worried, yeah I'm not in the right position to tell you all of these, since I for one wronged you the same way, well, not the same same way but you-" he rolled his eyes and snorted, her voice filled in the silence, overlapping the crashes of the waves below. He did not think anything could.

"I'm going home" he said plainly.

"Enoch?"

He groaned deeply, "yes Elephanta?"

"I'm sorry Enoch, please forgive me"

"I won't if you'd continue apologizing." He jogged his way down the path, his phone in his hand. He realized they stopped shaking.

"Okay," he felt and knew she smiled behind her screen, "oh and Enoch?"

"Yes, Olive?"

"Drive safe"

He did not respond to that. Her words matched the softness of her voice, he also felt how she truly meant it. He blamed his thoughts from clearing because he was then warm and spent. It was the calm after the storm and he knows there'll be another one coming. If only he thinks just like Olive, who basked too long in the sun, she carried on some rays with her.

The rest of the ride home was spent with silence. His eyes were a little red but thanks to his dark rims, he could easily hide himself, he just do so wish he'd groan all the way to avoid Olive's prodding nature.

* * *

 _I know I focus more on their impending relationship in the chapters, I'll try to include as much action as I could without having any knowledge about wedding planning and ballet or the performing arts. Oh and also insert characters such as Sam, Sharon, and Zachary as much as possible!_


	9. Opposite Sides: Vulnerability

_Itzel, gracias for your touching review! You motivated me to update this early x_

 _Warning: May I repeat that this story is rated T for a reason ;)_

* * *

 **Chapter Seven**

 **Opposite Sides:**

 **Vulnerability**

His footsteps echoed through the hallway. Immediately, her eyes drifted, seemingly alert. She pushed her plate further, her utensils neatly lined at the side, showing off the glistering light on the ceramic for the absence of her consumed food. Despite a heartbeat of uncertainty, her welcoming smile was ready to meet him. They thought he will not go back because of the mishap, yet he was and very much like himself with his brooding.

Unfortunately, that smile altered as soon as she saw him. His dress shirt was wrinkly and his hair was somewhat messier than it always was. Olive also noted the slight red in his dark eyes. It drawn her aback, she hasn't seen him display anything close to whatever he feels, but somehow, that sadness illuminated in his orbs. She uttered his name, soft and quiet, yet he still heard her. He blinked back and tilted his head further to his feet, his blonde strands blocking his eyes.

Somewhere in front of her, Mrs. Dust whispered and Ronaldo spoke, requesting for his presence to the dining table. In return, he politely, yet blankly, declined their offer. Although his stomach might've rumbled, he told them he felt unwell. It might be a cold, he said.

And he once told her she's extremely bad at making excuses.

She glanced at Mrs. Dust who was also looking back. There was a shade of worry in the older woman's deep eyes and Olive absentmindedly nodded. Upon the floor, Enoch's feet began to sound adrift from them, first from the thumping against the same footings, then to the escalated stairs, up to the resounding click of his door.

Ronaldo stared at his absent form next to her seat, "I'm guessing the meeting didn't end well." She narrowed her eyes at him and then glanced sadly to Enoch's vacant spot, pure concern was written on her expressive face. It made her upset to think that he'd been skipping dinner all because she'd been careless.

Which was why she stood up abruptly. "What are you doing Miss Olive?" Ronaldo asked. "He needs to rest." And she explained stubbornly.

"He will."

"He doesn't know what that word means, then"

"He'd push you away"

"I don't care, I'd trick him if I must. Never mind if he'd get angry, I've been so reckless and such a bad friend for far too long, Ronaldo"

She glided from her seat, way pass his pitying eyes, then to the vacant kitchen. Below the cupboard was a rounded black mantle that adorned porcelain cups, saucers, teapots, and a black rounded kettle, which she walked directly to. She removed the kettle from the set, rinsed the insides from any possible bacteria that could worsen one's virus, and filled it once more with the tap water. Once done and had the kettle heavy, she ignited the stove to life and placed the container upon the white circle.

She took a step back and watched as the black inside the circle lighten with red. Behind the arch, Mrs. Dust and Ronaldo kept on glancing at the back of her neck, worried and confused with how affected she was. She shrugged their glances off and continued with her waiting. The bowl she's intending to use was rinsed, waiting innocently to be of value upon the countertop, near the dining arch. She then busied herself on counting the white dotted designs on the ceramic before the kettle became measurably warm.

Behind her, soft footsteps walked their way to her back and then, right next to her. Relying to her peripheral vision, a shawl's end danced to sight. Mrs. Dust placed a tray to the counter and rummaged through her stock of bland crackers in the cupboard on the other side of the kitchen.

"I really hope he'll find peace as well. Must be fun to see him just be himself without this stress he's in." The temperature in the room rose, signaling her of her kettle. After returning back a small smile to the older woman, she straightened her posture and went straight to the stove, shutting the fire off.

She tipped and filled the bowl with warm water. The warmth diffused slightly and she cannot help but to relax the stressed muscles on her face. She smiled suddenly, knowing just how much a warm water can relax anyone, even the lying, brooding man a floor distant to her.

The smile was still on her face when she turned. Despite the confusion and rejection she felt in such stressful moment, her determination overpowered her inward sighs. She was not much of a stuck-in-the moment person, only for things and those she honestly value. If one acquaintance does not want to expand a friendship, she'll be alright to let go of it. Didn't she doubted her goal of reaching her estrange mother? Yet Enoch reminded her that everybody was worth fighting for.

Yes, she values him that much. After all, he's her friend.

She caught Mrs. Dust's eyes studying her, though without any malice. Once her eyes met the darker ones, the woman smiled kindly. The latter grabbed her hand and squeezed, there were gratitude, kindness, and a secret that was passed, though Olive, with her wild imagination, cannot pin point it out. Mrs. Dust must've sensed something with her intelligent brain that she cannot follow to. Instead of answering the younger woman, she grabbed her tray, which Olive did not know when she prepared or if she grabbed it from the dining table, but it was already sporting a brewed tea and yes, the crackers.

They made a bee line to the stairs, then up to the horizontal hallway that led to doors and glass windows. Olive was the first out of the three and the bowl in her hands gave her enough reality check to remind her that things could go horribly wrong than go incredibly right inside the lion's den. Yet, here she was again, pushing herself to be trapped.

She exhaled sharply and tried to incline her head, though her knees gave a little wobble. That did not go unnoticed by Ronaldo, who snickered at the back of the line with a fresh shirt, clean towel, and much to Olive's averting eyes, boxer shorts. Apparently, the three of them really grew up treating each other as family and Olive would not chicken out just because she was reminded how Enoch was actually a man with a face that could clearly be loved not only by his mother and a body-

Her eyes went wide and she mentally slapped herself. Of course she'd think of that, she's twenty five after all and nobody could deny he's a looker. She was just grateful she randomly thought of such scene way before she's face to face with the man in that daydream. She couldn't imagine his face if he'd find out, which as blabber mouth and feisty as she is, she would not ever tell.

Her thought led her face to face, close enough but still, to his door. She calmed down her nerves and knocked as gracious and gentle as she could. She heard a deep sigh from the other side and a: "What?" which she glanced around for Mrs, Dust who only shook her head and swayed her hand, an indication for her to try again.

She repeated knocking the same faint thuds. For a few breaths, his familiar weighing when he walks were stepping upon his floor. Then, the sound stopped and the door knob rotated clockwise, which revealed them the Enoch they all cared about. He stood in front of her with still, as much as they all guessed, with his work clothes on and a tired face.

"What is this Olive?" She could've grinned real big when he sounded as if he'd call her that permanently, yet she stood her ground and focused on the concern and being stern for him.

"You look dreadful"

"Gee, thanks for the compliment, you can go now"

He was about to slam the door shut but she pushed her strong bowl at the gap, the water inside swished and splashed against the boulders yet thankfully, nothing spilled. "You are sick Enoch, you say so yourself, you caught a cold."

She dared his eyes to speak. He glared at her for a long second, then gave up and rolled his eyes. "Just leave those stuff upon the table, thank you."

"No and you're welcome." She could feel his eyes as she pass him and went straight to his dim room. She strode far enough for him to acknowledge that she'd not go anywhere and for Mrs. Dust and Ronaldo to settle the stuff upon his coffee table. Also, she was close enough that she'd not invade his space forcibly. Her eyes glanced to him with an apology and optimism within, hoping he could get the message.

He was about to reply but Mrs. Dust, the mother among all of them stood in front of him and smiled encouragingly, her hand cupping the tall man's jaw with such maternal care. Enoch glanced back at Olive then back to Mrs. Dust, hardening his stare as he read her. Olive watched with respect, smiling with the way Enoch then sighed in defeat, letting them win the round he'd been fighting against.

Mrs. Dust turned around to have her gaze directed to her, and she nodded out of instinct. The woman has such air around her that'll make one relax and believe in themselves. She seemed as if she knows everything she's doing. "Yes Mrs. Dust, I'll take care of him." She reassured.

Nodding, the woman made her exit with her son in tow.

When the door closed, Enoch sighed and sinked in his bed. Olive was left standing on the space between his coffee table and his walk in closet, trying to take everything in. Inside the warmth of the dark room, she still shivered. It was no secret that Enoch was living in extravagance, but she was still left in-awe and completely felt small with such huge master's.

Enoch cleared his throat. He was sitting with his back against his dark wooden head board, half of his body hidden inside his gray comforters. His eyes were bold despite the faint puffiness of his eyelids. She smiled easily, shaking her head from the overwhelming size of his room; just when she was about to adjust with the house's spacious content, here she was inside his'.

"I can take care of myself"

She chose not to respond to such resistance, "you lay there and get comfy, leave this to me ok? I will take care of you," and turned to avert his stubborn eyes "you and I both know I did not actually catch a cold right?" With that question, she paused, not speaking for a moment, keeping her own stubborn self in check. Thankfully, Enoch let her be as she fixed her station. She took the the towel from the pile, dipped it in the bowl and brought her hands at the each sides to hold it still.

"Yet you've not slept right these past few days. You need some rest, yes?"

"So rest I shall! Very well then, you can leave now"

She gave him a blank look and he raised his eyebrow in return. "Let me do this, Enoch"

When he did not respond, she edged to him further, the bowl still held inside her arms. Even with his lack of response, his eyes cannot seem to leave her be, they await for her as she come closer and closer. As a result, she shifted awkwardly with her knees struggling to stay put upon his mattress.

Trying hard not to lose her firmness, she climbed in his never ending mattress with her brave eyes still locked to his' and her knees doing all the work and balance as gracefully as she could. The water inside the bowl moved slightly, though thankfully, she had reached his side before getting such huge chance to fall and splash everything around.

She inched as close as she could; to be able to get job done without looking awkward. Enoch's hand flexed in alarm as her left knee lightly grazed on the cold skin of his arm. She shrugged the tension that tried to rise on her cheeks and instead, tried a comforting smile, in which made him blush but his hand did relax.

Her hands dug in the bowl for the towel and squeezed the cloth for water residues. "You may be a liar, but you sure are not feeling well." She brought the cloth to his cheek, patting the skin gently. He stiffened beneath but she only sticked her tongue out playfully and avert her touches to his forehead. He grunted and closed his eyes, he cannot seem to point out why he liked the soothing feather like touches of her fingers. "You're still worse in making up excuses though."

"Pfft, you just don't want Mrs. Dust to worry, do you?" She plunged the towel back to the water and repeated the process, though this time, it began to his other cheek, down to his chin.

"Because I thought I'll escape her excessive and unneeded caregiving and her knowing glances," he rolled his eyes and she chuckled. "pity me, the second one's the most persistent person in the whole population of Cairnholm"

"Is that a compliment, Enoch?" He gave her a judging glare.

"Doesn't matter, you'll take it as one anyway."

"You know what, I've been thinking."

"Wow, that's dangerous"

"We," she pressed the towel to his lips, pointing him, "should call her Mama Dust, the missus sounds so detached and she deserves to receive that love she gives."

He snorted. "That's a potential drag queen name, Olive"

She smiled easily. He might actually feel unwell for the excessive times he used her name in just one evening. "And they're utterly bizarre"

"She'll love it"

"Duh, of course she would"

Their conversation died out and she continued her work. She did the sequence with the towel once more. "Up" She simply stated, motioning for him to lift himself so that she'd position him to a comfy position. He raised himself up by his elbows, head and chest sprang out as his eyes avoided hers'. Her one available hand fished inside the gap between his back and the bed, pulling his head pillow slightly downwards. She pushed him gently once done.

She was hovering beneath him, her shadow casting his face some sort of new dim. Her available hand held his chin and tilted him gently, his pale neck stretched fully for her own eyes. He did not know if she could hear the odd beatings of his heart; his reasoning was his obvious unfamiliarity with physical comfort.

But she still delved in, her hand with the towel touching the skin of his neck. Slowly, the towel pass by the adam's apple curving in the middle of his throat, down to the space between his collarbones.

Her eyes met his' despite the dark that surround them. She saw the blueness of his always hidden eyes, staring back at her with an expression she could not place. He was looking at her with his brows furrowed, his lips slightly open, revealing some appearance of his two front teeth. She, besides the obvious erratic movements in the top of her belly, was left speechless and slightly trembling.

Damn you attraction.

"Arms" her voice was low but he seemed to hear her though. He nodded aimlessly and offered the closest arm for her. She brought one hand clasping his elbow, the other with the towel to his shoulder blade, tracing the sides of the bone with her fingers beside the cloth.

"Relax, Enoch." She did not know if it was for him , or hers as well. One thing though, his name left her mouth with a low tone that even the most oblivious person could decipher the sudden shift.

He bobbed his head. "I am not tensed"

She released much effort to smile back, bringing her attention to his wrist. The towel travelled around his wrist and climbed up to his palm and slim fingers. Her other hand grabbed his palm, her fingertips pressed to the bases of each digits and suddenly, that was the most intimate hand holding he ever experienced.

The warmth spread in that hand and he was conscious with how warm and dainty her flesh was.

"You seemed to know what you're doing" He tried to focus themselves back to what makes sense.

"You know how kids are, their immune system gets really busy with all those viruses trying to break in"

"Ah, you still go there?"

She stopped her ministrations to his hand and pulled his other arm to avert the same attention.

"I help Wyn-wyn tend the children, they're really awesome," her lips formed a small real smile and suddenly, her eyes lit up to him. "Wait, if I use my memory correctly, a little birdy told me you actually went there?"

"Who told you?" He pried off his hand from her, taken aback, "it's Mrs. Dust, isn't it?" but she grabbed his hand and pulled back.

"Well, technically, she did not tell me." She paused for a moment, realizing how much she ruined the moment. "I'm sorry, I should not have known it."

He understood why Mrs. Dust felt the need to open the topic up. It was hers' and her son's story, he has no say in it to be frank. Besides, knowing those two, he knew they did not go completely subjective with his role in their storytelling. It was probably just a small detail that interested Olive Elephanta because she too, happened to have lived in the same home. She had found it fascinating that they somehow, breathed the same air and stepped on the same ground once, in a different time.

It was not that he sees Olive Elephanta as an untrustworthy person. It was just that he prefers being cautious in all ways. It was extremely hard for him to trust anybody. Nobody has it easy anyway.

The weight beside him was gone but his eyes were still distracted, staring at his hands upon his thighs. He couldn't handle her knowing him that deeply when in fact, he did not permit her so. He couldn't handle her pitying him, she'd have this idea in her head that perhaps, he's as pessimistic as he is because he needed saving. He does not need any saving.

"Take your shirt off"

"What?" He blinked in surprise, his train of thoughts interrupted by a cliff that is her. He's still not used to how the mechanisms inside her head goes. She was quite a firecracker, intense, feisty and all over the place, he simply tries to accept the fact that he'd always be surprised.

"Relax, Enoch," her voice was playful, but her shoulders and back were tensed. "You obviously need to change to comfy ones," she bounced off of his bed and collected the pile from the coffee table. He saw a peak of his undergarment that did not help him get any ease at all. He mentally hushed his thoughts and tried to cover the rising red that threatened to show. "Or you rather sleep unclothed?"

She was extremely impossible.

His ears tinged pink as his eyes hardened at her.

It was an innocent question, though the way Olive's lips sprung to a mischievous smile made him uncomfortably hot. He was a human being designed with human mechanisms. It wasn't like he blocked himself from feeling.

"I-I will change, yeah. Just um" he mentally cursed himself for stuttering, "don't peak or whatever"

He stood from his bed and walked across her. Her eyes were glued to him, but he cannot seem to meet them. He decided the moment was really messed up, he was showing her how vulnerable he could be and she was basking in such weakness with her full smile and powerful eyes.

He took his clothes grumpily and entered his walk-in closet, making sure that he shut the door behind him.

Behind the other side, Olive peeled herself from the bed as well and collected the tray of crackers and tea. She then placed it upon his bed side table. Once done with making sure his food was still warm, she sat on the edge of his bed, a deep sigh leaving her nose.

All was borderline well until she mentioned his stay in Cairnholm, the pleasant mood, albeit the normal attraction she no longer deny, was immediately put off. Thanks to her blabbering mouth, she felt his retaliation once more.

She let her back fall to the mattress, her feet dangling to the edge. The red and green lights illuminate to his ceiling and she stared at them. She could imagine him laying in the same bed with his thoughts busy and eyes glued to the reflection, looking for an answer inside the deafening silence. Could imagine him groaning in his fluffy pillow, stretching his limbs just to occupy the spaces. He has such huge bed to accompany his spacious room after all.

Her eyes closed themselves as she let her thoughts bother her. It was possibly his bed that has such toll, or his scent that linger in his comforters, which she breathed in, that made her mind decide to give him for her to think about.

The closet door slid open and he paused next to his coffee table, taken aback by her presence laying down his bed. She rolled to her side as soon as she heard his presence. Her eyes opened and awkwardly averted their view once she registered where they were placed to. Her pair travelled from his, much to her embarrassment, navel, up to his face. She greeted him a hello and he nodded. For a seemingly, minute or two, he stared at her, waiting for her to get off, which she made no plans on doing so. He gave up and crawled at his side of the bed, his toes a few inches away from her back.

He found the tray upon his side and much to Olive's hopefulness, he decided to eat.

She rolled to her back, her side profile revealed to the munching man. Her eyes were straight ahead, looking at the colors reflecting on his ceiling. He recognized her look, it was a part of the same ceremonial he has whenever he's distracted with his thoughts. He gave in and stared at them as well.

"Everybody seems to think that by being inherently optimistic, one is free from all of life's issues," her voice, a soft melody, hang in the air, "but that's full of shit. I lost it. I lost her. I am not the same eternally optimistic Olive anymore. I've always thought, by being one step closer to finding my mother would make me feel at ease, but as it turns out, I am not. I am still lost, scared of why I feel so- unsure, so doubting. There are also times when I feel so accusing, so angry at her. And that's not me, that's not what I should be. I'm just so, so scared."

The silence came back along with her choked breath. Her chest rose and fell in an erratic motion as if waves thrashing angrily at sharp rocks. He looked at her with unreadable eyes and it was probably because he was taken aback by her trust. She showed him her vulnerability and he felt ashamed for thinking that her skeletons and her closets were all irrational. Olive Elephanta was a book that he only read the synopsis and disregarded afterwards. Of whom he thought was always walking on sunshine actually has rain and shadows following her tail.

Life's unfair. Truly.

She made no attempt to face him. She spilled out the heavy weight she'd been feeling over the past few years. After all this time, she tried to be little miss Olive as best as she could; smiling and believing in a positivity she sometimes do not believe in anymore. For quite some time, everybody did not question it, for everybody does the same. They act put together and she knows they expected her to be happy. They did not want to worry the other and so they deepen the holes in their souls, pretending all was well.

It was a series of unspoken commands.

 _Be happy, Olive. Shine, ignore the flickering light of doubt. Offer help and forget you needed one. Do not make Wyn worry. Do not crumble. The world needs your smile._

Then, Enoch came along. He was true to her ever since the start. He was a fresh page in her life that opened too many possibilities. There weren't any expectations in his part as to how she was supposed to act, he simply let her be. He was not afraid to show the world how screwed life could be and she admired that of him. She became attracted with how he made her feel as if she was not alone. It was as if she was allowed to laugh over, admit some silly things and also, rant about her misfortunes with him and he wouldn't think of her any else. She cared about him too much because frighteningly, it was not just because she was guilty, but perhaps, unconsciously, she's slowly needing him. And him, her, as well.

Her tears continued to fall silently, over what? She cannot seem to comprehend. Lost, sad, hurt, anger, everything came spilling under her eyelids. She never felt so tired but glad for a long while.

"Life is unfair, Olive. One thing fair about it is everybody has their own demons." He started, his thick accent was soft and comforting. "And that does not exclude you, the likes of you. Nobody can be so incredibly happy all the time, that's screwed up."

She smiled against the fogginess of her sight. It now struck him how different the night was slowly turning out.

"I didn't- you- you did well in hiding your feelings, my skills weeped because you did it albeit being kind to humans. But that's not the point." He breathed in and out, having trouble putting everything to words. "Your feelings, those are yours, a part of you that makes you, you. You are so raw, so compassionate, despite how foreign I am with such things, I advice that you do not change that. People like you, Olive, deserve to feel because that's what makes you human."

His mind brought him Victor, but he fought and continued.

"No matter what happens, you'd find yourself in the end. I do not know why you seem to think that you are no longer that little feisty Olive years and years ago, but I still see her. Yes, you're taller and now have mother nature's blessings," despite the seriousness of the moment, they both blushed, "you grew up, but the same eyes, the same wonder, the same longing, the same spunk, those are still in you. You may not remember me, but you've always sought your mum. You'd cry, fall, get hurt, but you rise afterwards, run around enjoying the fragility of your life."

"You remember me, but I can't seem to- I'm sorry"

"Doesn't matter. you were just young then, barely even completed your set of teeth." She snorted and chuckled, but that was not his point."And you are doing those things. You're stuck with me and yet, you find ways to see me in a positive light. I will never understand your mechanisms, but I do know how utterly strong you are as yourself. Being lost and weak do not change that."

She took one harsh intake of breath, her wet lips stretching to a tired smile. Relief. Relief filled her with warmth she did not think would ever feel so good. To hear such words from his usually sarcastic mouth made her feel them way too much. Here they were, two lost souls finding comfort in each other's doubts and thoughts, trying to lift the other up in hopes of redemption. She never thought she'd live the day that she'd meet such impossible man, but she did. All because she was uncertain and wandering.

Her cold arms found their way around her, cradling herself in a cocoon inside another person's bed. The said person watched, yet his eyes were shy as though he does not know if he was allowed to see her state.

"She-she left me when I was eight. She told me she'd come back but she didn't. I hate how she's living the rest of her life as if I did not exist, as if I am not suffering. Most importantly, I hate how I'm still hoping she'll come around, that I still want to hug her once more."

Their breaths mingled with one another, exhaustion clear in their eyes. His chest wanted to burst with all the truth she was so willing to give. A part of him wanted to desperately to blurt out the pain haunting his head. He wanted to feel the same vulnerability and ease she now has, but he cannot seem to speak. He was at loss for words, his own hidden emotions clogging his stomach, drowning him.

Loneliness crept in and he resisted the urge to break down. The night was already silent, crying for him. For them.

Somewhere beneath his comforters, Olive Elephanta's hand crawled to his'. Her fingers smoothed his palm, tracing random lines on his flesh. Her eyes travelled to his face, scanning him as his expression was blank.

"You deserve to feel as well, Enoch. Everything that is human."

"I don't"

She did not respond and went back to staring at his ceiling.

"Can I hold your hand?"

"Will that make you feel better?"

"For both of us?"

He did not answer, but his hand scooped in, taking her hand much closer, snuggling it deeper. Her fingers held his' tightly, their palms meeting in their warmth.

They did not let go until her eyes closed and her breathing went deep. He sighed and disentangle his hand from hers, climbing down his bed to take care of her.

The night really did not go as planned.

Her face was peaceful yet the trails her tears left were glistering in the right light. He snorted as he pull the sleeve of his shirt to wipe the runny snot that clogged her nose. She did not squirm and so he concluded that she's a heavy sleeper.

He scooped her right up, one hand behind her neck and the other behind her knees. She was light weighed in his arms, curling in as she sought for comfort. Her head lolled inside, laying on his shoulder, shaking her head once, twice, to get to the uttermost fluff. She might've thought he was a pillow; which he cannot help but grunt and roll his eyes.

It took him a few seconds to open his door with a woman-child in his arms. He tried to shrug a weird feeling creeping in him but he was so tired to even think about it. His eyes never left her flushed face, occasionally laughing at it whenever she'd open her mouth and giggle. Even in her dreams, Olive was silly.

He moved to the hallway and almost bumped to Mrs. Dust. The woman looked at them curiously, but he only stared. Her expression was all he needed, she was trying to decipher what had just happened.

"Don't worry," he said, smiling the way he only knew how. Mrs. Dust nodded slowly, as though puzzled, but still managed to give him an encouraging smile he was so familiar about. The smile that helped him when he felt so low as a child. The motherly smile that made him feel as if he really do matter. "Oh, and thank you, Mama Dust."

He left her standing still in her spot, wearing the smile he only knew how to make, and reminded the sleeping girl of predators and the cheshire cat.

* * *

 _Thank you for reading! What can you say about the chapter? I do so hope they are not out of their elements. I sort of wanted them to be more human as possible but I worry they got a bit carried away and became two new characters. But anyway, I really hope you liked it! Do leave a review._


	10. Opposite Sides: What is Unexpected

_Thank you so much for those who are anticipating to the chapters of this story! I am really glad you liked it. Hopefully, I will never bring you guys down._

 _I do apologize for the grammatical errors, I get really excited to post new chapters before editing, but I'd edit em when I get the chance. I hope you'd love this chapter and leave a lovely review._

 _PS: I do not own MPHFPC and Romeo + Juliet_

* * *

 **Chapter 8**

 **Opposite Sides:**

 **What is Unexpected**

"That was marvelous, what you did"

A week had passed by ever since that night. The days were polite and Enoch did seem to warm up with calling her by her first name. They grew somewhat comfortable to the other's presence. Olive could now grab his arm whenever she's telling her stories and he now, does not flinch, that much, mind you, with her proximity.

Such improvement altered her mood drastically, which was why she received a few claps from Madame Wren for the performance she did for the day's session. And Zachary, with his charming, boyish smile, and such thick Scottish accent that could melt butter, noticed and praised her.

He looked down on her, hair disheveled and cheeks a bit pink because of the session. He looked like a tooth paste commercial actor, all teeth, dimples and mint. She's such a sucker for dental smells.

Her lips formed one huge grin. Warmth spread to her chest, up to her cheeks.

"You do those things as well, Zachary" She pushed him, her fist nudging his elbow. He fake rubbed the spot, his bottom lip pulled out and thick brows furrowed. "Is that how you say thank you to your cavalier?"

She rolled her eyes playfully, looping her hand in his arm.

"Shall we, my dashing knight?"

"So we shall whisk away, my beautiful highness"

She let him take the lead. He insisted on giving her a ride home. This time, when she texted Enoch about the request, he asked just why was she asking for his approval, and flat out told her she need not to wait for him for he has alot on his plate. A small part of her was disappointed, yet she did not let it show and instead, she focused on the image of Zachary with his leather jacket and humongous, glistering bike. Her estrogens were probably celebrating inside her body.

The air from outside was traveling, sending goosebumps to her still open pores. Wind swayed along the sides of her bangs, kissing her skin gently with their caresses. By her side, Zachary stared at her openly, his neatly proportioned teeth were showing.

"You danced with so much passion out there, Olive, it was though you really were engulfed in the situation. In love, if I say so myself." He looked at her with questions in his eyes and she blinked back curiously.

"I am, with my craft" She explained. Somehow though, her conscious thoughts led her to her impossible housemate. Enoch, with his frigid, but comforting arms bringing her close, her nose nuzzling to the new shirt he wore that successfully smelled like him.

She could've opened her eyes then, but she was vaguely aware that to wake up meant to end such dream-like state. Although awkwardly initiated, he took care of her and she felt safe, most importantly, understood. She found it impossible not to think of him the rest of that night.

"Hopefully, I could be, as well"

Zachary still looked at her with the same glint. It was too hopeful, it made her stop her train of thoughts. It was not time to dwell in her confusion. Here she was, being treated well by such handsome man, yet she cannot help but zone out.

Yet, somehow, she still has her non-existing love story in her mind. Even the thought of having one with him, Enoch, made her blush, for she knows she cannot think of such thing regarding her friend. It was all wrong, she can't take advantage of his kindness just to feel the warmth in her tummy and the comfort in her tiring day.

"Olive?"

His head was tilted slightly and she couldn't help but smile sheepishly.

"Do you not like what you are doing, Zachary?"

"Do not get me wrong, I love dancing, really," he removed his stare and ushered forward to his glistering dark bike. "But for what? for whom? I've yet to meet my muse"

She stood in front of him and watched as his hand traveled across their space to hold hers. Reluctantly, he pressed his fingers on her chin, prying her eyes from their intertwined hands to look at him. Brown met green, and it was a forest of wildness and raw passion. She did not know of what missing muse was he talking about when he clearly was the muse of himself.

"For you, for yourself" She squeezed in his hand, repeating the same way she held onto Enoch's.

"Yet I found myself wanting to know what it's like, with the shape that is you"

There were few, but moments in her life when all the cliches in romcoms happen. The sun was warm, casting yellowish hue on East London, painting her with gold strikes as the man professing his love stare at her with such devotion. Then, she'd smile and lean in, coating his lips with the strawberry gloss she made sure to put on that morning-not for anyone, but because it makes her feel powerful.

But she gaped widely, the ends of her lips lifted to an amused smile. "Wow," she reacted dumbly, not knowing what to say.

"Would you let me, Olive?" The last relationship she had was pure, straight on crap. Going back to those days, she never fails to cringe. How on earth did she manage to stay in such toxic relationship for three whole years? And what did she even consumed that made her thought he was better than her first? She was eighteen, young and stupid, falling over boys who think they have the world to their feet with just a quick brush on their cropped hair. The bastard only wanted her when he was high.

But Zachary, charming, handsome Zachary, who thought she'd be his muse. It was quite a lot to take in.

"Zachary, the real question here is if you allow yourself to" She giggled, erasing the tension that rested on his shoulders.

"Of course"

"That's it, then. Come on, loverboy, I'm starving"

He nodded with a gorgeous smile on his face. "Wait just a minute, Helen of Troy" She halted upon his request.

He pulled the leather jacket and opened them for her.

Yes, it really was a romcom kind of scene.

She could feel the energy of his body a step behind, the warmth of his jacket hugging her frame like a burrito. He then guided her to the seat, in which he sat in front of her. The smell of his minty goodness filled her nostrils and she finally succumbed to the different kind of warmth; one that was clearly different from a few nights ago.

He had her hands wrapped around his torso tightly. Below his shirt, she could feel formations of abs that might've made her swoon. She appreciated them, yes, but they did not made her heart tug. Surprisingly, he did not even made her imagine unspeakable things. The realization somehow scared her, she cannot trust herself to close her eyes, for fear that she'd dream of a different scent to clog her nostrils.

When they arrived, Ronaldo's face was the first she saw. She cannot help but laugh at the dramatic expression on his face. He looked at her with humorous eyes that were filled accusations. Then, his gaze diverted to the man next to her, scrutinizing him from head to toe.

"Good evening, you are Ronaldo, aren't you? Olive told me a lot about you"

"She didn't with you"

"Hey, yes I do"

"Doesn't matter. Who dares step on the monster's lair whilst scurrying off with thine man's maiden?"

"I am nobody's keychain Ronaldo, geez"

Despite the pulsating want to defend herself, Olive cannot help but blush, yet quickly recovered right before anyone could've noticed. Foremost, she did not understand if she was not informed or people just like speaking so formally when threatened. Then, of course, it was no secret that Ronaldo's loyalty was with Mama Dust and Enoch's alone, and he very much loved teasing her with the so called owner of the lair. She just wished Zachary would choose not to mind the younger man.

"Hold your horses there thine sir, I shall leave then" Zachary still smiled amidst Ronaldo's persistent gate guard abilities. She shook Zachary's hand that was inside hers just enough for him to be distracted.

"You could come inside, I'm sure Enoch wouldn't mind. I'll make you my not that awesome, but ok, whipped cream ice cream"

From that, Ronaldo glared at her and sharply backed away from the scene, calling someone from his phone.

The front door opened rather suddenly. Mrs. Dust stepped out from the confines and saved them all. She smiled to their guest and shook his hand with her gracefulness. Much to Ronaldo's dismay, his mother ushered Zachary in with her in tow.

* * *

He stared at the sticky notes sticking out the pages of the presented organizer. Green, pink and blue lines were overlapping as he opens them with his hand. Written estimated dates were scribbled as were some sketches of cakes and dresses. Aside from the numbers and pen strokes, they've also construct the foundations of where values and amounts would go, such planning led them to providing choices and offers.

The meeting room was filled with wires, pictures, markers, notes, laptops and three adults. Sitting on the head was Enoch, then on his right was Horace, and left was Claire. They were preoccupied with their tasks in general that even Claire was frowning, picking up Horace's designs and giving out opinions.

He was relinquishing the silence that was too rare with the two. Ever since Olive came to the picture, Claire had been pestering him non stop about the state of their relationship, which of course was no where near being intimate. He always tell her they're friends of some sorts, and she'd sport such knowing grin, he cannot help but snort.

His phone vibrated on the table, breaking the spell that left him in peace. "It's Ronaldo, Enoch" Claire butted in, glaring at his screen disappointingly, no doubt, hoping it was her friend. "It is rude to pry, Claire."

He nodded his gratitude to his always prim and chivalrous colleague, Horace gave one back, then bowed down to continue with his draft. Upon the man'd head, he smirked at Claire, who only rolled her eyes and scoffed.

"Enoch?" Ronaldo's voice was too loud for a whisper. Even with the deepness of his tone, he could still be heard by the two people in the table.

"Yes?"

"Are you staying?"

"I am uncertain, though I might, why? Is there any emergency I should know about?"

"Yes, it's Olive"

His eyebrows quirked in concentration, he let his mind focus on the reasoning before he'd decide whether to panic or not. He pull all his energy to distinguish the strange calmness and secretive vibe Ronaldo's voice pertained. It cannot be something wretched.

"What of her?"

"She brought a pretty man, Enoch. That Zachary with his perfect teeth"

Olive.

He glanced at her name in the screen, noticing the absence of availability. It did not bug him to know that she's possibly, searching for a person to well, watch cheesy movies and enjoy PDAs with-just the thought of those gooey romantic comedy sceneries make him cringe. So why on earth was Ronaldo reporting such things to him?

"Well, good for her"

"Are you not going to judge him at least?"

"I've seen the boy, Ronaldo. He's perfect for her"

The line went silent and he allowed himself to take it. He truly was happy that someone like Zachary would woo his impossible friend. Although she's quite a challenge to put up with, along all of the energy and random, silly things, she's Olive, a woman who has a heart bigger than her own body and a smile that could make anyone's heart tug.

He frowned, confused with how his thoughts strung themselves.

"Go home early, at least."

It was a pathetic excuse, but at least he did not use the wild card, Mama Dust, as to get him to come home urgently. Ronaldo, much to his obvious want to tease them so, gave him the free will to choose. He did not bother to close the conversation formally, his thumb hovered to end the call.

He went back to the notes, flipping them back and forth as his peripheral vision checks on the time in his watch.

"There's not much we could do with these, Enoch. Besides, we're already a few steps ahead with this project" Horace offered, placing the pencil next to his sketch pad. He already drew five wedding gowns on the paper, each with a serpentine shape and shimmering tools. So far, the bride was pleased with the notion that they're following every details of her dream dress.

"Is that so? Then, we might as well be a meter ahead,"he sounded irritated, though he was not. "We couldn't fit all these guests if we'd go with that huge arch and statues"

"Oh Enoch, eyes to the price my oblivious friend, I'm afraid you're missing out" Claire said nonchalantly, her eyes not meeting his'. The man next to her looked at their exchange yet Claire just sighed. "Horace, I think you should shorten the veil a little bit, you know? To show the world how she truly feels? Feelings shouldn't be kept hidden, especially love."

"You're talking nonsense Densmore, what are you on about?"

"Well, yes, Claire, but we could make it thinner then? To compromise with her ideas?"

Enoch groaned and decided not to meddle in. Claire and Horace were some hopeless romantics and he does not blend in with that. Emma Bloom was the only person who he thinks worthy of such notice, and he is yet falling in love? He's extremely foreign with such abstract. Few women came and walked away, not liking the way he's so detached and indifferent to them. And he definitely did not like the way they tried hard to change him.

Was it true though, that he's missing out? Of course it depends on who you'd ask, what they prioritize. Sometimes, he thinks about it, what could be the rational reasoning behind the neurotic ways people do when in love. Those people whom he thought were calm and composed, act extremely opposite when it comes to conflicts regarding relationships.

Who could he ask though? Claire would laugh at his face, Horace would space out probably a week-and that could ruin their performance, Olive though,

Olive would understand.

He raised his head and stared at the ceiling above, gliding left and right with his office chair. That night, he proved to himself how utterly beautiful Olive can be. Yes, a bit creepy, he thought about it as well, but his eyes were attentive and glued to her peaceful face. She has such warm face and an even more comfortable eyes that when she's snoozing, every curve and color seemed alive. Some freckles which he hadn't seen before, adorned to the center of her nose's bridge; sun kissed reminders when the sun would often kiss the sky. He snorted rather suddenly, remembering the small light mole on the side of her upper lip. He then understood why she's sociable.

After leaving her in her bed, he stayed up later than usual, her scent traveling around, he had almost fooled himself that she was there. He might actually know her anywhere. In a crowd full of people, he will still see her.

Therefore, really, he's glad she could be happy. Especially now that they grew closer. She knows how to handle him and he's quite an impossible being to be with every single day, yet she managed.

He is happy

for her

He stood up abruptly, his chair gliding behind him because of the force applied by his push. His eyes glanced at his watch, reading the time, then to the two. Claire and Horace looked pleased, though tried their bests with covering it by gluing their heads to their work.

"I'll just take these home" His hands busied themselves with packing. Hopefully, if he'd hurry up, he'll make it just in time.

* * *

The dining room was buzzing with soft murmurs and clunking of utensils. Enoch tilted and observed first, seeing a familiar man next to Olive. He sported a smirk in knowing how his presence was anticipated according to the space upon his seat.

He laid down his bag to the coffee table and made himself known. Olive was midway through consuming her spoonful of mashed potatoes when she saw him. His chest gripped itself when her eyes twinkled and lips stretched to a greeting.

She looked so happy.

"Look who decided to show up" Ronaldo joked, his eyebrow raised and reading spectacles resting on the bridge of his nose.

"Because someone called me in the middle of my work"

Olive glanced, her expression curious and surprised. Apparently, she was not informed of their talk.

"What did you guys talked about?"

"It's a secret"

"I can let you tell me, Enoch. I know how" She explained, chuckling quietly as they both shared a knowing look and an implicated inside joke. He had this strange tickle on his knees that she accidentally gained knowledge about. The situation happened a few days ago, when she was midway to tripping but accidentally grabbed on to his thigh, at the top of his knee. He jerked rather suddenly, still ending her falling but was still satisfied with the information. She couldn't let it go.

"Your boyfriend wouldn't be too happy to hear how you'll do it, Olive" He wasn't much of an innuendo person, he leaves it to Olive with such humor, but the way that Zachary looked at him gave him the power to do so.

"Oh hush, let's leave it to the imagination shall we, Enoch?" He blushed by the dark eyes that looked at him. Olive couldn't be defeated at her own game.

Luckily, Zachary cleared his throat and raised his glass of water. His green eyes were subjected to him and he cannot help but to glare back. He's not a smiley person, so why on earth would he act as one in front of a guy he had no obligation to please.

"To leaving it as that" The man said, his glass still raised to the air.

He grimaced with the thought of trying to smile with the gesture. There was something about Zachary that made him more snobbish. From the way Olive portray him, he sounded alright for people like Olive. They are those people who love to socialize and get to know such huge population of friends. But he was too different from him, they were two juxtaposed individuals.

Fortunately for Zachary, he raised his glass and clicked it with his offer. Olive in the middle smiled timidly, nodding to nothing in particular. He cannot seem to get it.

"You're Zachary right?"

"Yes, I'm her cavalier. Her friend, supporter, partner. She's my muse. My inspiration, the cause of my burning passion"

Zachary leaned in and winked to the chuckling girl. She kept shaking her head, finding his statement humorous despite his advances.

"That's too cliche Zach, really"

"And yet we love star crossed lovers and love at first sight"

"That's just you"

"Yet you dreamt of portraying Juliet"

Enoch watched the exchange and ate grimly. He felt weird, probably not used to having Olive that, well, unresponsive to him. She also treat Zachary the same way they banter, only that, Zachary flirts with her so boldly, and she allowed herself to flirt back.

He scooped one large bite to his mashed potato and busied himself with cutting his roasted beef.

"Enoch- Enoch right? What do you do?"

"I organize wedding events for a living"

"So, you know a lot of things about love then?"

"I've seen a lot of things about love, does that count as an answer to your question, ?" He sounded harsher than he thought he would be. In truth, he really was irritated. The man kept on flashing Olive his bright teeth, she could potentially be blinded by them. Also, the fact that he was irritated with such pointless thing made him even more foul, knowing how there might be some deeper explanation for his escalated rampant.

"I am sorry, you must've had a rough day, Mr. O'Connor"

"Meh, rough life probably"

Afterwards, fortunately or not, Zachary did not open another attempt of a conversation with him. He observed that Zachary was incredibly charismatic, he knew how to make people like him. Ronaldo for example, did not like him one bit until a few polite chit chats later, had already told stories about his experiences with patients during his observational and practical classes.

Beside him, Olive was at ease, her laughters ringing in his ears as Zachary and Ronaldo made her laugh. He continued eating his food, it was his house after all, he's not expected to pretend and listen. Afterwards, Olive's hand crept down to the table, her fingers tapping on the back of his wrist like piano keys. He glanced at her and her eyes were still fixated with whatever conversation she's in.

Such scenario stayed for ten minutes or two. He had no problem blending in with his seat, and Zachary had no problem trying not to look at him, or Olive's hand in general.

When what seemed like a nowhere ending, Olive's guest was about to leave. Mama Dust was the first to stand up, offering Zachary a welcoming hug and Ronaldo clapped his back.

"I hope the ice cream with whipped cream invitation is still open?" He slung his leather jacket in place. Olive stood on her spot and nodded easily. Enoch stared at the way she smiled for the man. "Yes, of course, Zachary" She tiptoed from her feet and planted her lips to Zachary's cheek, pressing one kiss that made him avert his gaze. He felt as if he was not allowed to see such act.

Behind him, Ronaldo clapped his back as well. He only frowned, for he was unsure of what to feel in that moment.

* * *

When the dining area's light was off and the whole staircase was dark, Enoch cooped himself to the living room. He did not turn any light but the radiation from the flat screen beamed color to the place.

He was currently watching a film adaption of Romeo and Juliet. For some reason, he felt the need to do so. He accidentally slept that afternoon on his desk, that's why he still felt awake and running, and honestly, what are some better ways to kill time than watch movies?

"Enoch?"

Her voice, something so familiar and intimate.

He turned around and saw her blanket wrapped self and bunny slippers coming to him. With no further questions, he scooted to the sofa, not registering the existence of the love seats that were glaring at them.

She laid on top of the cushion, her head next to his thighs. A crown of her mane spread around her and some cascade down the sofa. She glanced at the screen, smiled, and then looked at him. Her eyes were bright amidst the color from the film.

"Why are you still awake?"

"You don't want me to see you sob do you?" She retorted, her index poking his nose.

"More like I'm afraid I couldn't sleep because of your loud snores"

"I do not snore"

"I'd probably drown from your flood of saliva"

"Well, I couldn't deny that"

She rolled her eyes and chuckled just as he smirked in victory. He laid his head back to the sofa's rest, his arm tightening its hold to the pillow he'd been clutching.

"Zachary and I, we're not there yet"

"And you're telling me that because?"

He stayed watching, choosing to ignore the stare she's been giving. The blueness of the room colored her to a dream like state. He wanted to touch her then, he almost held her cheek.

"I just thought you should know"

For the rest of the movie, they both stayed silent. Enoch kept on glancing at her to make sure she's still awake or not. She stayed wrapped in her blanket and hugged her knees to her chest, her eyes concentrated to the scenes in the screen.

He sighed heavily and closed his eyes, inhaling some air and finding out that he could distinguish her scent.

"What is love, really?" He asked.

"Unexpected for us"

* * *

Thank you so much for reading! Please do leave a review, it helps alot x


	11. Opposite Sides: Blurry

I apologize in advance for the grammatical errors, I am just really ecstatic to finally update! It's been a while :)

Please do leave a review

* * *

 **Chapter 9:**

 **Opposite Sides: Blurry**

Olive sat leaning on her bedpost, her fingers tapping the space of her laptop as she waits for Bronwyn to answer. She was in a fidgety state, mentally scolding herself for giving away an unconscious thought even when she hasn't come to terms with it. He asked her such an honest question, she naturally answered with what she knew of it.

Surely he wouldn't think further of it, would he?

But she does. She knew she meant something from it. The climax of the film rode with the tension in her gut. Realization swept her in its arms with dark rims and absence of abs, it looked at her with such deep hue, she drowned. Her heart nearly pulled all of her ribs just to hide. She cannot face it, how can she?

She planted her elbow to the surface and leaned on it. Her head felt heavy due to the impact of her confession. Such answer hit her hard that her skin shivered with the thought that he was just a floor away. She wrapped herself with her arms in an effort to feel warmth. She doesn't have the willpower to get her blanket from the scene downstairs knowing what lies next to it.

Olive Elephanta knew what lies behind the fifth and sixth ribs of her body, and it wasn't supposed to react to a certain Enoch O'Connor. She was no scientific minded person, but she knows for a fact that hearts do not beat for a person.

But perhaps he stimulates her dopamine. Despite her current withdrawal episode, she cannot deny and will no longer act oblivious, to the knowledge that she rather likes it when she could lift the ends of his lips and make his throat vibrate with laughter. She, for the safest conclusion to say, admires him. She proved to herself how right she was when she predicted he'll develop a pivotal role.

The screen popped Bronwyn's tab and the woman greeted her with droopy eyes and a tired smile. It was already way pass Wyn's bed time, yet she rarely complains on anything.

Olive however, was dazed, preoccupied with the thoughts that run in her head. On her face was a small stretch of a smile, unnoticed and candid. Bronwyn softened then, waking up from her state and saw how Enoch O'Connor once again, made an appearance in the story.

To yet another person she deeply cares about.

"You certainly are happy, Miss Magpie" She voiced out, exhaling with a sigh and a comforting smile. Despite the sharpness of her features, she has the softest regards for people.

"I am and not at the same time, it's weird" the girl, whom she witnessed growing up, still looked at her with the same glint she had seventeen years ago. "What is the matter, Olive?" Olive albeit being twenty five, was still her little magpie. She was still that little brown eyed feisty child who clung to her whenever she was too tired to pretend she's made of steel.

And now, even after witnessing Olive in such years when she dated douches, she was taken aback that her little one is experiencing such turmoil. It was like the first day nature knocked on the magpie's life and pronounced her adolescent. It can also be compared to the very first heart break when she locked herself in her room and danced until her feet went swollen as with her eyes. Her little Magpie looked so much like her younger self, and not, at the same time.

Olive scrunched her face with her hands, groaning behind the shield.

"I usually catch myself thinking of him, Bronwyn, it's driving me mad, am I turning mad?"

"I think you know what that is, little one"

Bronwyn glanced at Sam upon their bed, sleeping soundly with one arm sprawled to her side of the space. She smiled the same one Olive did when she, most probably, thought of Enoch.

She removed her gaze to the sight and brought back her attention to the girl in the screen.

"I need you to tell it straight to my face" the said girl commanded.

"You are interested in him"

"Erm, Bronwyn, I was thinking along the lines: 'You just need some sleep Olive' or 'that's just your boy crazy brain talking'" She found herself chuckling despite the silence that succumbed with the night.

"I apologize for chuckling. What could be wrong with what you feel?"

Olive pouted, frowned, as her eyes looked down to the designs glued on the board.

"Because we're friends"

"Is not that the foundation of a better relationship?"

"And he's not like them, Wyn"

"Exactly"

"Exactly. That's why he couldn't think of me like that"

For once, when love knocked at the door yet again, the hopeless romantic was afraid. Bronwyn saw the wildness and the hesitance in the younger woman's eyes. And yes, the said girl was afraid. Afraid that the growing strength of her feelings would soon engulf her too tightly, she'd be knocked out of her shoes and nobody would be there to catch her.

Of all people, Enoch O' Connor would be the first she'd say as someone who would never look her way.

"But Zach does" She said as a whisper, though Bronwyn must've heard her. "Is it that mister you've mentioned before?" The woman infront of the screen leaned in closer, her brows shot straight to her forehead in anticipation.

Olive shrugged Enoch off, smiled, and reveled on the chivalry of her gorgeous friend.

* * *

It was during the first thirty minutes of his second film did he notice the white fluffy blanket upon the unoccupied space of the sofa. He looked at it for a brief moment, having quite a debate with himself as to leave it be or not. Surely, Mama Dust would retrieve it to her quarters, surely, she would notice it sooner and come back for it.

Yet, he found himself clutching the blanket, carrying it with two good arms. His feet drag him out of his bottom and up the staircase, straight to the hallway. It was like the usual route, for when he's to sleep, returning to his own room. But this time, he walked pass the door, which almost gouged him with its glare.

There was a slight gap between the frame. Soft light passing through, contrasting to the timid lit the skies behind the thick raging windows possess. Her room was a new world, he barely even remember what it looked like before she existed in it. She looked so out of place yet so fitting, it was a lot to take in.

"He asked me if I could give him a chance"

He stopped to his track, gliding flat to the wall. Her voice was soft yet vivid to his hearing, passing to his auditor canals swiftly as well as his comprehension.

Surely she's talking about that Zachary, he thought.

"Yes of course, you should see how he looks like. The genes are too strong, he's the epitome of boy band, could also pass as a hot doctor, gorgeous"

He rolled his eyes, barely seeing the gorgeousness she practically almost salivated to. Sure he has such remarkable teeth, but his smile was too commercial, it almost looked fake.

"Maybe"

He tilted his head further, trying to hear whatever it was the one she's talking to says.

"I mean, it will not be hard to love him back. He sees me"

"After all, what's not to love? I got lucky"

There's something about that Zachary which he's annoyed about. Sure he's not allowed to comment at all, who is he to meddle in? Olive can go marry the guy for all he cares.

Really.

He pushed himself from his hiding spot and went straight ahead. It was done due to something that nuzzled in his abdomen, the annoyance of knowing that he's in fact, while happy that Olive is bring treated right, is extremely bothered by how it bothers him.

His knuckles met her door and immediately, her shadow moved. There was a weird, comfortable aura that generates from her, effecting and knocking him speechless for a split second. "Come in" She stood next the bed with her eyes larger than they were, the life inside her room glaring at him amidst the dark hues of his clothes.

"Hey you" She placed the laptop diagonally. Enoch glanced at the screen and was taken aback with seeing a familiar face he didn't want to see just yet.

"Good Evening, Enoch" Bronwyn greeted, her face, a palette filled with different hues of worry and gladness.

He cleared his throat and nodded distractedly for a reply.

"You left this downstairs," he made sure his eyes were glued to Olive.

"Oh wow you came all the way from downstairs just to give this to me? Thanks Enoch"

Her face scrunched up to the smile that he usually sees her doing when he does something that pleases her. It was that silly, toothy grin that made his lips raise slightly. He cannot find any difficulty getting distracted when he needed one and Olive is around. She's a one woman show, and she never fails to deliver.

"Don't get your hopes up, Elephanta" he said, and her hands touched the surface of his wrist. Just one innocent move yet he mentally forgot about that Zachary.

 _We're not there yet._

 _Yet._

 _Yet._

 _Yet?_

"Well, good night" He backed off sharply, leaving her stumbling to her feet. Bronwyn in the screen looked at him with surprise, yet he was already outside Olive's room to even comprehend her look. He did not see the shock, questioning, and slightly hurt expression written on Olive's face.

He felt smiling and that was odd and frightening. His heart cannot stop pounding in rhythms.

He liked it.

Behind the door, Olive's brows crunched and her lips thinned. He moved against her as if she was fire that burned him. His face, spiteful, disbelieved.

She sat upon her side, defeated. Bronwyn stared, pity written in her eyes.

"Are you alright, magpie?"

"He doesn't think of me like that"

Her heart ached. Something in the middle of her tummy had tied in knots in a defeating way.

It hurt.

"He seemed more likely afraid than disgusted, Olive"

She shook her head once and deliberately did it in a hurried motion.

"I'd sleep this one out"

The night outside her window was too quiet, embracing her to a comfort she knew was of pity. She let the gesture loll her to sleep, for what else could she do? She's way too tired to fight back. All the questions she pretended not to hear back lashed, forcing her to know the answers. Her lone tear was not just about cleansing her eye. It was something much more deeper.

* * *

Her footsteps were soft and tired. He did not know how he suddenly mastered distinguishing the little details of her, yet he knew immediately that she has her lips pushed slightly out, pouting in a sense that you'd further your conclusion of her mood.

"Morning" he greeted, puzzled, fazed that she just slumped in her chair without her usual mirth. She was prepared for the day, hair held tightly in a bun and face fresh despite staying up late at night.

"Morning" She mumbled back a greeting, eyes down-casted, focused, hiding.

He frowned, confused, recalling whatever it is that he made wrong. It was a first. But he doesn't have any other friends to compare her with though. Emotions are not his forte, it'll take a whole day if he'd analyze every step he took.

"What is it, Olive?" His voice sounded irritated, yet was more flustered.

Her placid face scrunched, frowning at his question, as if disbelieved he put it so bluntly. She met his eyes, returning to the reality that he does not have the knack for feelings, then had her face all serious and pretty.

"I'm hurt, Enoch" She replied, stared at him for a split second, and went back to the world she just had constructed; one without him existing.

He blinked back, still with the frown he usually have. It was all new to him, to have someone professing that he hurt their feelings with such innocent emotions. People who hate him, that he could manage, flawlessly. But friends? Her? How on earth would he apologize? In fact, didn't she already made it clear that she'd understand him?

Despite the thick tension, he heard her chuckle. Looking at her, the source was definitely, not him. The back of her neck was straight and bare, few tendrils of hair falling to her bowed head. Her eyes were sparkling, not from her pupils, but the reflection of her phone.

He inched close, brows shooting up to his forehead. Apparently, her delight came from the pretty boy named Zachary.

There were smileys and all that flirty, annoying stuff that he cannot help but to dislike.

"What is it?" Even when he was almost leaning onto her, she still managed to distance herself. She was stiff in her spot but her face was puzzled and slightly annoyed.

"What did I do wrong?" Perhaps it was the way her eyes seemed to still have such warmth in it. Possibly, it was the way her strands fall clumsily and how he felt weird not seeing her smile. But whatever it was, he automatically asked.

She took a deep breath, utensils silenced upon their plates. The room was still, almost staring at them, anticipating for either one's move. Her eyes met his' and she almost swore she'd blurt what she felt. He stared, waiting, wanting to know. His heart, such rhythmic organ was beating in his ears, the silence of the room waiting for the moment.

They both thought the ribs would open and they'd crack.

Her hand buzzed and the screen went alit once again.

"I have to go." She stood abruptly, pushing her seat by the back of her legs. The spell was cut off, everything was breathing noisily. His heart was caged in his system.

"Go on, Olive, tell me." He took the last three digits of her hand. Fragile and faint movement, yet her eyes faltered to the same eyes she had that night.

"Enoch, Zach's already-"

"Fine then, go, for all I care"

Her hand was hot and it almost burned his. His face changed, though in the spur of a moment, he did not know what it looked. Her face was bewildered though, more so close to tearing. Her eyes which were fogged, turned misty. She was fighting back the tears.

He strode off, not looking back at her. His system though, his system could not be fooled. His skin was highly active, sensing her presence.

Yet, she only cleared the tears from her eyes harshly, blowed off the strands of her bangs, then left.

He sat on his bed, leaning against his bedpost. By a minute or two, Mama Dust would knock in his room and force him to finish his breakfast or worse, and highly possible, force him to apologize or lend Olive her fair share of forgotten food and reinforcement.

And yes, he was right. He did not even got the chance to close his eyes when the woman opened his door wider. She was looking at him attentively, her lips sporting a knowing, sheepish smile.

"It's not my fault" It was childish but he still insisted.

Mama Dust sat on the edge of his bed, her hand patting his head as though pronouncing him silly.

"In my defense, I asked her why but she's just stubborn. Not my problem"

"I already did my part"

"She already has that pretty boy, why can't we just let her be?"

His eyes hardened and he moved his gaze away in shame. He found how scarily true his pent up emotions were. Mama Dust listened patiently as he rumbled. It was as if she already knew something all along and was waiting for him to figure it out.

He was happy for them wasn't he? Yet, why does he despise the man?

"What? What is it with you as well Mama Dust? I simply cannot understand you people"

"We both know, Enoch darling, you can't and she doesn't want you to"

* * *

She sat next to Zach in the workshop. As partners, they began planning for their upcoming project. The room was empty except for their presence, it almost made her glad except for the fact that her head was as full as how her surroundings were vacant.

"Are you alright?" Zachary nudged her. He looked extremely dreamy with pen upon his auricle and hair slightly messy. And so she smiled, leaning her heavy head to his shoulder, trying to decipher if she feels something for him or not.

"Talk"

"What?"

"Please"

He cleared his throat and began his strings of words. She closed her eyes, feeling the rise and fall of his voice. He started with the most beautiful food he'd ever eaten, then with his most embarrassing moment. Despite the ache in her chest, she found herself laughing. In her head, Enoch was looking at her. In her head, she knows how to ignore him, how to love somebody without thinking about him.

"Olive?"

"Yeah?"

His hand crept on her and her eyes opened. He smiled, his toothy grin that was too genuine. "You're beautiful, yeah?"

"Zach-"

"It doesn't matter if you'd return my feelings or not. I just want you to be happy, Olive"

She mouthed a thank you, giggling with how romantic he is. Enoch be damned as of that moment. Maybe she was not trying hard enough, maybe if she'd concentrate to her cavalier, she'd love the person who wanted her.

"I hope I will, Zach. Help me"

He leaned in, cupping her in his palms. She closed her eyes and sighed, gripping his hands in hers as his lips touch her forehead.

* * *

 _She already has that pretty boy, why can't we just let her be?_

His eyes narrowed, looking at the lovers behind the transparent glass doors.

 _We both know, Enoch darling, you can't and she doesn't want you to_

He gripped the knob tightly, pushing the door right before he could think of anything to say to her. Plans be damned, he couldn't watch such intimacy, his chest and stubbornness couldn't bare it so.


	12. Opposite Sides:Jealousy

_I'm sorry if it took me quite a while to update! I was so busy with school and stuff, I lost track to the flow. But thank you for the reviews,favorites and alerts guys, you keep me going :)_

 _Special regards to Miss Charli for the message! You, Ma'am, helped me get on my toes again! I was so drained lately, I only looked at all these unfinished drafts and sighed, I cannot seem to have the courage to continue or even help myself by remembering where I want this story to head haha._

 _And yes, I agree! I am still having trouble with all those problems. I sometimes also forget about the common phrases, as English is not my first language, but hopefully I can improve! And I hope I wouldn't disappoint not just you, but also, all the other lovelies here who read my fanfic!_

* * *

 **Chapter 10**

 **Opposite Sides:**

 **Personification of Jealousy**

Her head turned towards him, eyes widening once her brain registered his presence. Brown eyes met his blue ones immediately. His chest felt like it sank, though it was due to the nerves and how his pride had just understood what he was doing. Right at that moment, he went blank, unsure of how and what he was trying to accomplish.

"Good morning, Mr. O' Connor" the green eyed monster- oh the irony- greeted him, almost as if exclusively mocking.

He clenched his jaw and lined his lips thin. Despite how stupid he's feeling, he couldn't seem to let her eyes escape. Zachary's hands were still in hers and he was completely annoyed by it.

"What are you doing here, Enoch?" Her voice was firm despite her worrisome face.

He frowned like a wounded child, struck stunned by her cold shoulders. He couldn't remember what it was that he did or said wrong. Didn't he return her blanket even when he was clearly, not obliged to do so? And she was alright, perky even. Was it something he said when they lightly bantered? He does not peg Olive as someone who can easily be offended, and he did not say anything worth being offended to.

"While I do not care about how cringey you lot would be with all your public display of affection, may I at least, have a spare of your time, hum, Olive? 'Suppose that's alright with your boyfriend?" He raised both of his brows, working her up just cause he was feeling quite.. off.

Her hands snapped back to her sides, the brown eyes that always looked so warm, were fuming, level to level with his annoyance. She strode across the spacious room, towards him, her face bare and frowning.

"What are you doing, Enoch?" She tiptoed, much closer to his face, but he was still far away. "Gosh darn it, why are you so tall?" It was rhetorical, she's gripping his wrists softly and pushed her weight on them, out of frustration and of hoping she'd meet him nose to nose.

He smiled despite himself. His hand had struggled from her grip, crept up at the top of her head and then pushed her down slightly, enough for her not to see the accidental rise of his lips.

"I am not saying sorry, I just want to erm, make it up to you-" She removed her hands and raised her head, making her eyes appear smaller until they look like slits. He rolled his eyes and grabbed something from the back of his feet. "-Here". The wrapped up paper bag made her eyes blink, her brown eyes appearing as warm as he always know them of.

"Are you bribing me with food?"

"Yes"

She smirked, grabbing the bag enthusiastically. "You win this round, you oaf"

"Are you still angry with me?"

"Am I still hurt? Well, we'll see." She tiptoed herself back to the desk, that Zachary's eyes twinkling with awe to the way she moved gracefully with her breakfast. He fought himself from rolling his eyes, the least he wanted to happen was to be rejected by the girl they're currently eyeing while 'he' is looking.

As she was about to bite whatever that was left of her breakfast, she nudged the green eyed monster and offered him some. He flashed her that one winning smile that seem to always make her blush red, and politely declined. To see such sight made Enoch unapologetically roll his eyes.

They were both leaning on each sides of the desk, their youthful faces flashed pink, raw with young love. He felt like a bystander, there seemed to be a glass on the door frame, preventing him from touching them. The feeling that nestled in his stomach came back, it wanted him to look away.

"Do you want to hang out with us, Mr. O'Connor?" The green eyed monster glanced at him as if mocking. He blinked, biting one sarcastic retort from leaving his mouth.

That was then when Olive only remembered he was still there, "Oh, I thought you were gone. Enoch has alot of things on his plate, Zach. Let's not bother him"

"As much as I want to, Mama Dust locked me out of my own house, as a punishment for whatever I did to you"

"Now, I feel sorry"

Normally, he would've told her she should, but the look of her sincere, guilt-stricken face was enough for him to sigh and let it go.

"We're even then" He said lamely, looking at the speakers on each sides of the walls just to avoid meeting her eyes. "Guess I have to watch you practice then, Olive"

She raised her brow and winked, speechless though hiding it with her confident facade. If he was closer, he should've seen the small tint that colored her cheeks, but he was already way far for her to reach.

* * *

He was at the desk, scrolling to the email he had read for the umpteenth time. He cannot seem to focus. When he came back from retrieving his laptop from the sedan, he was caught off guard seeing Olive Elephanta on the barre, her legs moving to and fro with grace. Since then, he was trying way too hard not to let her distract him.

"Why not Romeo and Juliet?" At the opposite barre, the annoying voice of the green eyed monster interrupted his concentration. He raised one good brow and tried to continue typing.

From what he had heard, the two were partners for an important project that serves as a really huge bargain. If they would keep on impressing Madame Wren, they can get the lead roles for the show and, by chance that would be liked, their recital could extend to New York.

For that assignment, to further the bonds assigned, they were to perform a tragic love story number.

"Cause, everybody would do just that Zachary. Besides, we don't have enough time to search for a music that'll fit"

"Fine and what do you suggest? Samson and Delilah?"

"Why not Heloise and Abelard?"

"Who are they?"

She returned her raised foot with a resounding pause. Enoch glanced at her at the top of his laptop. He was surprised to see her glancing back. Yet when their eyes met, she frowned as if embarrassed, ducking from his stare, and shook her head.

"Nevermind, Samson and Delilah it is"

It did not make any sense that she just dismissed what she wanted just like that. Olive wasn't someone who easily backs down from the things she want. Yet, as she closed her eyes and bowed her head, seemingly feeling the weight of her body, Enoch knew she was over it.

"I mean, it is practical isn't it? Regina Spektor's Samson perfectly captures Delilah's human side, all we need to think about is the preparations" She added once she felt two pairs of eyes looking at her.

"No problemo to that dear, d'you know Fiona?"

"Isn't she the girl who plays the piano for our classes and the owner of the nearby flower shop?"

"And a botanist? Yeah, I'm sort of friends with her. She's cool and I heard she makes her own clothes so-"

"So?"

"So, she can help with our preparations"

Enoch decided not to listen to their conversation anymore. Instead, he focused on sharpening the plans for their current project. So far, they are off to a great start. The process of actually doing the details on fast speed was the only thing that worries him, but they'll thrive. They are, after all, equipped with the talent.

He snorted, knowing just how smooth the sail's been getting. It took such a rough start, but as of that moment, the waves are tamed and even. He will not let such project go to waste.

After a mere discussion later, Zachary's annoying voice ended and Enoch raised his sight, astonished by the blessing.

The two speakers resonate a woman's soft voice with an equally soft tune. Zachary was upon the wooden floor, tilting his head to a figure at the center.

His eyes traveled to her in all her raw passion. Her eyes glanced at her partner briefly, then they turned to him.

It was as if she was lost in her own world. She looked at him with deep, brown eyes and a serene, confident smile, he swore his heart must've climbed to his throat, wanting so desperately to leave his mouth and go to the hands of Olive Elephanta. She snickered that silly way of hers, yet he did not get the chance to smirk.

Her dainty feet tiptoed to the tips and her arm swayed slowly to the top. Her hand shimmied to her face as if glitters dancing to her space. Slow, gracious, as though a delicate bird. As she move that limb to the side, her neck craned and her eyes slowly shut. The lashes of her eyes met some sprinkles of stars that were spread across her nose.

Then, her lips opened and she giggled. She let out one: "I don't know what to do next" yet it did not seemed like it for she slid one leg and glided to the floor with dainty tips.

He watched and watched. Her feet carried her, occupying the space as if it was hers to take. The room and everything in it, weeped to her grace, watching in silence with hearts held temporarily on the throat. Her face was a slate, although her eyes were closed, she would often frown and lips would open and close when needed. Her body was art, moving slowly, precisely, sometimes achingly, chaotic and beautiful. She was Delilah with all her betrayal and love. Haunting.

He remembered then when she told him she flies when she dances.

He couldn't help but agree.

On the last part of the song, she raised one arm up and the other to the side. Her body swayed to the keys of the piano tune and soon, just as slow and refined her movements were, was her curved leg and the way she spun quite fast, she appeared as though she was levitated.

She was absolutely divine.

* * *

It was short to evening when the practice ended. After Olive's remarkable trial-she told her audience she once tried to do a ballet cover of the song, that was why she seemed to do it fabulously, the pair discussed about what they'll take from Olive's arrangements and how they'll insert the other half of the pair. Enoch insisted for Zachary to just not be in it. For a while, he thought his suggestion was the answer, yet he only received a raised brow from the girl and an offended look from the annoying foe.

Fortunately, Zachary did not press on with tagging along and make him the third wheel. The boy regretfully told Olive he's running errands and Enoch cheerfully shooed him off. He even gave the boy a small smile just cause he'd been a good child in that exact moment.

When Zachary was out of ear's shot, Olive frowned at him comically, pinching his ear just cause she cannot reach his hair.

"What are you so upset about?" He asked, wincing not because it hurt, but because she looked at him as though scolding.

"What are you so upset about? What are you so upset about my arse, Enoch!" and she responded, huffing as she entered herself to his sedan.

He couldn't help but laugh, both at the victory and the safety from the green eyed monster.

"Fine then, no free dinner for you"

"Yes, I'm already so tired, I just want to sleep."

Yet he drove not to the way back home. She did not seem to mind though, since she was already asleep on the passenger seat. He shook his head, rolled his eyes, yet he was not at all annoyed. He had actually well adjusted to the new scent lingering with his' now.

"Olive Elephanta, you are like a child" He said to the sleeping girl.

When he stopped underneath a red light, he fished for a handkerchief and placed it on the pane, beneath her mouth. She drools when she's having deep sleep.

They arrived at the restaurant just when the sun was about to set. He nudged her once, twice, and harder on the third before her brows furrowed and opened, seemingly confused about the unfamiliar place.

"Are you getting me rid of me?"

"Just get out of there, Olive" He smirked and lets her take her time to remove herself from the sedan. She blinked back, adjusting from the nap and suddenly asks, "what?"

"What what? We're going to eat, duh"

"Pretty fancy schmanzy"

She looked at him as if he was crazy. Yet, he only shrugged and carried them both in.

Some people looked at them quite aloofly. They must've been quite a match. Him, still wearing his home clothes while she, looked dazed with her slightly falling apart bun, black tank top, dark leggings and bright yellow doll shoes; she does not use her ballet shoes outside the studio.

Olive also looked at him weirdly, yet he only held his head high. They're costumers after all.

"For two if you will" he said, and the host thankfully had the decency to not be like the other judgmental snotty people of the rich society. Enoch O'Connor could, no doubt, out snot them all if he'll be triggered further.

"What's up, Enoch, I don't know if you're aware but there's definitely a nearby food stand on the corner of the studio?"

"Yes, but you are now under the Paleo diet, aren't you?"

"Well yeah, but this is too much" She said with her usual tone, not minding how nosy the diners were.

They were given a table at the center. White linen cloth covered one heavy wooden table. Besides from the man playing the violin, formally cladded people, three golden chandeliers hanging almost nearing each other upon the high, renaissance painted ceiling, Olive knew it was fancy eating when she saw layered utensils, mainly different sizes of forks, next to her plate.

When she raised her eyes to him, awaiting for his explanation, he simply rolled his eyes and shrugged.

"This is not for you, it is sort of my hobby to eat in places like these once in a while"

"So I'm guessing you're Mr. Romantic?" She leaned on her hand and teased.

"Well, I guess chivalry is not dead, dear"

The candle on the center of their table adorned a sweet honey aroma. Yellow glow wrapped the restaurant and faces were sporting shadows. He looked at her and was glad she could not see the blush on his face. Psychology says people look better under yellow light and Olive was mesmerizing.

As they ordered, with Olive just pinpointing what looked appetizing and helpful for her, Enoch just nodded and told his', pronouncing the words right, which in turn made the girl give slow claps, still not minding how some women and men look at her weirdly.

"You know what, honestly, they'll weep to your grace if ever they'll see you perform, Delilah" it was probably the champagne he sipped but he did not regret saying it.

She seemed dazed, blinking back as though she cannot believe whatever he said.

"Wow, I am stunned. Thank you"

Her eyes were warm, her smile was warm, and the space was warm. He can still remember her there, flying like a bird she rightfully claimed she was. Then there was Zachary, young, pretty, and absolutely brave with his feelings.

"And Zachary, you should've seen the way he looked at you"

"He better, he's my cavalier after all. We need to be Samson and Delilah" Her voice was in question and he felt her mood alter.

"Yes but are you blind, Olive? He's been looking at you like that ever since you've met"

Fortunately, their food were brought just before she could confront him. She looked as if she was hurt, though for the life of him, he didn't get it. Wasn't she supposed to be happy?

"Why do you keep on pushing me to Zach?"

"Because you two are so much alike, Olive. It's fact"

She picked one fork out of her layer and scavenged to her plate. With brows slightly slanted, she scoffed before taking her bite.

"Who are you to say that?"

He does not know as well.

Because oh how he hates the kid.

But he cares about her.

When it seemed as if he wouldn't bother responding to her, she sighed and continued to dine with a mask of happiness. Truthfully though, he knew of her annoyance, he just couldn't answer her properly.

"Have you ever loved someone Enoch?"

He looked at her, eyes hesitant but determined. He thought of the dazzling Emma Bloom, somehow.

"Yes"

"And by any chance, you'd meet someone very much like you, will you stop loving them?"

He thought for a long while, took three forkful of his dish and answered:

"No, I still wait for her, of course"

She halted, her eyes staring back at him and he gently avoids them. He was afraid she'd seep through and realize whatever feeling he so desperately tries to hide. He thought of Emma Bloom. The girl perfect for him.

Her face altered and blinked back. Her shoulders were tensed yet they did not realize they were until she relaxed them.

She grew quiet and he decided to let her be. He liked the way they both know just when to shut up and not for the other. It was a complex thing, but somehow he just felt she needed it.

Really, he couldn't understand women. For a moment she was quiet and absorbing her thoughts, the next she was smiling, her eyes bright and flashy.

"Maybe, maybe I really should open my heart to him, shouldn't I?"

He gulped one mouthful of water that ended up hurting his throat. Still though, he nodded slowly, convincing both of them "yeah, of course".

* * *

 _Welp, this was supposed to shift things but it ended weak, I'm so sorry. I had trouble getting back to writing stories again since I focused on writing poems about life lately. If you're interested, feel free to read all my crap in Instagram! (shameless plug, sorry)_

 _Please do leave a review, it gets me going :)_


	13. Opposite Sides: Stuck

_Hello guys, I'm back!_

 _Just a few clarifications! First, I'm not actually sure about the lunch-dinner-tea time terms. So, please do forgive me if I use them wrong! I had just found out that there are actually a whole lot of terms in American-English that have different terms in British-English and I already handled this situation carelessly with my stories, oh my._

 _Second, I realized that in the prologue, I already wrote that the company building has like, ten staircases which would mean ten floors right? and I know that's kind of not impossible, but would sound impractical for this type of company but oh well, lets just stick with it for this fic, shall we?_

 _Lastly, I just felt the need to defend Olive on this chapter cause I feel like some of you would hate her for this but, you know, in reality, her situation happens a lot. I think Zachary would explain it and how it's acceptable for her to do the things she's doing._

* * *

 **Chapter 13**

 **Opposite Sides:**

 **Stuck**

Over the next few weeks, their meals have 'coincidentally' became accustomed to her much needed nutrition intake. The morning after their tensed dinner, their food took a sudden turn. Of what she thought was mere happenstance quickly revealed itself as it happened way too regularly.

"You shouldn't have, Enoch" She told the one possible person who was behind all of it. But the said man only shrugged, responding with a "I eat whatever it is on my table, Olive. You, however, need this."

"Thank you" and she thanked him with the biggest smile in which, he murmured a "whatever," with slightly tinted cheeks, "you're welcome"

She cannot help but smile from the memory. It was a day before their first ever monthly performance and she was oh so grateful for her grumpy housemate and his way of silently taking care of her. The fact that he does it without any reward also makes her feel mushy but most especially, guilty. Which, much to her optimism, made her hustle more, do more, yearn more. She cannot help but feel like she's taking all of his space and so she'll do her best to make it up to him.

"Hey, you're much too enthusiastic, given that tomorrow's our performance" Zachary stole her attention with his soft palm against her cheek.

"How can I not? Enoch's been really sweet and everybody's been so supportive"

He raised one brow, his eyes in a paradoxical state, they were knowing yet surprised at the same time. "Are you two dating?"

Her heart tugged, out of surprise it seemed. She shook her head clumsily, "no, what made you think we are?," making some strands fall in front of her face.

"Enoch, he's-"W _onderful? Out of her league? Probably still in love with someone else? "_ -he's Enoch, and I'm Olive, Zachary" she didn't know how that could explain anything, but her cavalier nodded timidly, seemingly thinking, before doing it excessively.

"I just thought- yeah, I'm just overthinking"

She moved back to face herself in front of the barre, moving her strands back to her ears and caressed the extensions that were there.

They just gotten their set up finalized and truthfully, the ever so talented Fiona really does wonders. Olive decided there was nothing the girl cannot do. They got to look their parts and she was amazed of the work done to her. From the sprayed red to her hair down to her ankles, she didn't look like Olive at all, she looked like a confident, elegant and precocious vixen. Probably someone like the mysterious girl Enoch's probably in love with.

 _Wait, what?_

Her head ached and her chest felt heavy. Of course, without denying it any longer, she knows she was jealous. Ever since that dinner, according to his words and actions, it made sense that he was still in love with a lost lover. And she wasn't supposed to react so strongly to it.

She groaned inwardly, hating the fact that she let it swing her mood again.

Mustering the courage and remembering how it was way important for her to make it up to him, she tried to focus again. She looked at Zachary and smiled as if her sudden frowning and seemingly deep -in-thought session did not happen.

"Last polish, shall we?"

Zachary guided her to the center, their eyes locking and immediately, she was no Olive, he was no Zachary, and definitely there was no Enoch. For their numbered minutes, they are Samson with his Nazareth hair and Delilah with her treachery.

Enoch was right when he said Zachary was her match. Realistically, they are so alike, they synch in one steady flow. He fit with her like a pea in their pod. His hands and eyes would guide her, communicate wordlessly to her body and she would automatically understand what to do. They were beautiful as they sweep the floor and weep the grace and passion needed in ballet.

His body bends and glides exactly the way they should. Samson's eyes were glued to her, the longing hypnotizing her as she inches further; slow, powerful strides that will make him surrender. His face was hooded; head against the light exactly as planned. Her subtle red lips parted, smiling slyly at some point and he didn't fail to notice it.

Music hummed around them, closing them further. Samson's hands crept up to her back, raising her from her feet as she bowed her head and shield his face with the crimson curtain that was her hair. She enticed him onto her, wrapping him to her strings as she does what she was intended to do.

It wasn't planned. They were not supposed to kiss in that part. Zachary suggested it once but she said it was not necessary to do so. But here she was, being in the moment, feeling Delilah's deception.

She leaned in and brushed her lips to his, her fingers burying to the wig attached to his hair. Against her abdomen, she felt his heart beat faster and she at least, was touched. His lips moved against hers, bringing her closer and she lets him because she rather liked the way he doesn't just smell like mint, but he tasted like one.

In her thoughts, she knew it was wrong. Wrong because Zachary's feelings would probably deepen and also, she cannot seem to stop thinking about Enoch O'Connor. But her tummy though, at least, was excited, and her brain, the logical part of herself knew that she should take what she had decided back on that dinner with him. Zachary deserves the attention he's giving her.

Feeling determined and optimistic about the plan, she suddenly broke free and continued delivering the rest of the song, smiling at some point whenever Zachary looks her way.

* * *

As expected, five of the groups did Romeo and Juliet, but there were three of them that did Samson and Delilah. After realizing such situation, Olive just shrugged to herself, she decided not to expect anything. They can do well next time.

But much to her joy and surprise, they were picked. They had the highest rating amidst all the fantastic works. Madame Wren was now seeing her in a steady light and she can now have a reason to eat steak and fries. It was all wonderful and she cannot help but to dance her silly little victory dance, in which Zachary has his own to show off.

The session progressed and soon, the sun was set and everybody was going home. Sharon was waiting on the parking space and she gave him her thumbs up and winning smile. Everybody knew of her monthly performances and they give her such heart warming support.

Before going though, she turned and called over Zachary. He smiled on her way, doing his silly dancing while coming near.

"I need to talk to you" However, sensing the seriousness in her tone, he immediately sobered up. "Yes, what is it?"

"We need to talk about the kiss" es, rather. They decided to keep on their performance.

"Ah yes" he smiled so innocently, her heart felt warm. She doesn't deserve such man.

"Zachary, I'm so sorry. I don't want you to think that I'm using you, ok? But you must know that I am still stuck"

"Ok" he replied without any conviction, she was confused.

"I am still stuck thinking about a certain person" She felt relieved. That kiss was fun yet she cannot fully enjoy it if she was continuously hiding a secret that could hurt him. At least now, she'd know what it will be. If he'll accept her, then she'd gladly kiss him again, slowly working herself to possibly loving him. If not, then the kiss would be purely for the performance.

If only she can do that to her feelings for Enoch.

He looked down at his toes for a moment, seemingly thinking, before looking back at her with his playful eyes "Is there, by any chance, I know them?"

She blinked back, her brows raised as she was taken aback "What-"

"Nah, I probably don't" he said, dismissing himself. "Don't worry, Olive. It was my fault that I gave color to that kiss. We're professionals, we only do what needs to be done" He added, wrapping her to his embrace as she sighed to his shoulder. "Although my heart skipped a beat on those, you're a really great kisser"

"Your lips taste good too, Zachary"

His arms tightened around her, "I only wish I can do it again though" and her hands wrapped themselves to his arms, squeezing. "I don't want to hurt you"

"It's reality my lovely, it's not like the one you love would wait twenty five years without ever loving somebody else before you," he sucked in a breath and parted from her, his green eyes looking, searching for hers, "all I ask is for you to try"

She nodded, "us"

"Us"

As soon as she climbed inside the vehicle, Sharon was looking back at her, wiggling his bushy brows, "somebody's winning everything today"

"Oh whatever, Sharon"

"Proud of you, missy."

"Thank you"

"With that looker, as well"

"Thank you"

* * *

In contrast with the lively ride home, the house was tranquil, though the light in the living room was still on. She followed the trail of light passing through the transparent automatic sliding door. On the hallway, she saw Mama Dust warn her to be quiet when she glanced at the dining area she walked by. She guessed, of course, Enoch was in need of stillness.

Upon the couch, he was dozing off; she bets his neck will be stiff the morning after. Sitting upon the cushions were folders, papers and his laptop, glaring at him to be noticed.

The poor man had been so busy lately, she didn't realize it was that hectic that he lost the ability of sleeping on his huge bed. She never liked staying up late, no matter how busy she's supposed to be, sleep cannot be removed from her twenty four hours; which was why she had a hard time waking up early on her first day.

Maybe it was his body clock. Despite the obvious bags under his eyes, he never fails to wake up early. But just because he's used to it doesn't mean he can manage all of those tasks at hand. He stresses out a lot even when he's clearly doing much more than he could and Olive refuses to sleep, relax upon the bed he gave her knowing he's like that.

Which was why the morning after, Enoch woke up with a stiffed neck but also, a familiar blanket wrapped around him and a mug of hot cocoa waiting for him to wake up. There was once again a note. He cannot deny that that lighten up his mood somehow.

Even when opening the note, it only has a wink smiley in it.

He snorted and got up, his eyes widening as he saw his papers arranged and his laptop turned off at the coffee table. Before he could call her out because she meddled with his things, not knowing if she even saved his document, he found a note peeking from inside the flaps of his laptop.

 _I saved it, Mr O'Connor_

Seeing as he did not have any reason to be annoyed the first thing in the morning, he decided to have his breakfast. Surprisingly, she was not there.

"Where's Olive?" He asked, sipping the hot cocoa. It was still bittersweet. He still likes it.

Ronaldo smirked cheekily, shaking his head in disbelief. For the first time for that day, he rolled his eyes.

Stuck under his plate, he took another note, and possibly, it was the reason why Ronaldo reacted that way.

 _See you in a bit! Excited for my first day! x_

* * *

It was the umpteenth time she checked herself from Sharon's mirror. Even when her bun was secured by the bun maker- yes, she even bought those, she's that serious, she couldn't help but straighten herself up in fear that she'd look as if she was just playing around.

She knew the image was really important to Enoch, which was why she'd do everything to look sharp, objective, and intelligent. After all, he always looks slick every time he goes to work, his secretary should mirror such look.

"Geez missy, you're getting nervous for nothing"

"Do I look professional?"

Sharon glanced at her from top to bottom, his scrutinity was pure and serious. Olive playfully posed, her face, an expression of dullness.

"You don'need ta' impress 'em. Just be yourself, do what the missy would do" He advised.

Trust Sharon to be the father she wished she had. He cared for her earnestly and never fails to support her no matter what. Plus, he's awkward and sweet at the same time.

Thinking about it, it was one of the reasons why she wanted to meet her birth mother. She cannot recall whatever happened to her biological father. Did he abandon her as well?

Clearing her head from any negative thoughts, she gussied up again, pulling her coat sleeves to straighten the slight wrinkle on her arm.

At exactly 7:30, Enoch climbed into the service. He eyed her quizzically, as if trying to decipher if it was really Olive he was to sit next to.

"Good morning, Mr. Enoch O'Connor. Your meeting will start at two in the afternoon, so please do relax and try not to shout at someone today" She said, trying her best not to giggle.

"What are you doing, Olive?"

"I am working, sir."

"Working for?"

"For you, En-, sir" He glanced at Sharon, who only shrugged at him in response. Whilst thinking about how he needed to get there early, he only sighed at her looking back at him and gave in. No sense kicking her off when she looked too happy to accompany him.

She sported one big smile on her face, pleased with herself in her ability to not be kicked out. He sighed dramatically then, not knowing how on earth would he survive his day with her by his side. Knowing her, she'll distract everybody and she wouldn't even know it. She's just so warm and refreshing.

"So, what are we to do today?" she pulled one small notepad from her purse, flipped the cover, and pointed her pen on the first page, ready to follow his words.

"Lets see" he pulled his sleeves to his forearms and her eyes darted to his movement before catching herself. Sharon cleared his throat for her notice, his eyes meeting hers and she blushed. "Mostly, every morning, at 8, I check every station there is. By 10, check the statistics, basically the progress of the company. 12 would be lunch, and well, the meeting will be by 3."

"See? I'm doing quite well for now, aren't I?" She flopped the cover of her pad and scooted on the seat, inclining her head to him.

He rolled his eyes and avoided looking at her hopeful face. She was smiling and he was determined not to give in.

"Come on, boss" she prodded, her strands appear golden brown and her eyes were the warmest against the sunlight. He cannot help but look.

"Why should I? You already said it yourself" He wrapped his arms around each other, the veins of his forearms were subtle yet showing against his skin. Olive cannot help but look.

"Yes but it would be great to hear it from you" She reverted her gaze and concentrated. Still though, she came back, her eyes locked gazes with him and her head nearly ached for shouting " _Just friends, just friends, just friends"_ right at her.

"Please?"

He smirked, his lips stretching in order to trap his words inside.

"Please? Please? Please, Mr. O'Connor?" the same warm eyes know how weak he was for them. She leaned closer to him, her face complete with its details. He saw now that she even put eye liner and her lips were a deeper shade of red. Even with her nature, she still looked sophisticated. She truly thought of what she'll do for the day.

"You're doing quite well, Olive" He murmured, repeating her words

"The real challenge is inside though" and he added once seeing the building come to view.

* * *

Her breath was stolen by the extravagance of the man made construct in front of her. The building was ten floors high and was shining from the yellow light chandeliers seen by the towering glass windows. Before entering the golden framed doors, the sign hanging on the left white boulder could be seen. She loved how contrasting it was to the evolved style the building has. "The Loop" was styled as if it came from a letter dated back in the 40s and the way the double o's seemed to resemble an infinity.

As soon as Enoch stepped out from his limo, his aura thickened. Although he was always grumpy, he rises to a new level when he comes to the office. Looking right next to her, she swore she could feel his superiority pulse from his body.

She gulped, almost skipping, just to be in synch with how fast he walks.

The doors opened and as if on cue, a girl from the reception stood up and plastered a placid smile. "Good Morning Mr. O'Connor" she greeted. Immediately, Enoch and the woman went all business-y, exchanging words that concerns a certain Mr. Avocet but Olive knew it was not that stressful, seeing that Enoch wasn't frowning or silent.

She glanced around the lobby, overwhelmed by the huge chandelier hanging on the spacious waiting area and the dark brown swirly patterns on the marbled floor. With just the right music, she swore she wouldn't think twice before dancing right there and then.

"-and this is my new assistant, Ms. Olive Elephanta" She hurried to his side once she head her name being called. She smiled easily, yet Charlotte looked at her pointedly before offering her hand. "Welcome to The Loop, Miss Elephanta." For which she accepted the gesture and replied, "thank you for welcoming me, Charlotte"

For once, the girl looked stunned, but quickly recovered and placed her commercial smile back on. She was not hostile, yet she was not exactly open either. Olive then felt itchy from the heavy garment she's wearing, was she doing something wrong?

If she was not distracted, she would've felt Enoch's hand at her back, she did not even feel as if they were walking; it was probably the heels. "Did I do something wrong, Enoch?"

He paused, frowning at the top of her head. He pushed the up button for the elevator and coincidentally, right on time, it opened. Employees rush out, looking quite uneasy, whispering a good morning to his way and some quizzically glanced at her.

"Good morning to you guys, as well" They wore the same expression as the girl, Charlotte had. Everyone was surely acting weird. Do they know that she doesn't have a single clue as to how they wanted her to act?

Enoch and she entered and the doors closed with only the two of them in it. He pressed 10 before speaking, "you did not. They were just not used to you, that's all"

She closed her eyes and nodded gravely.

"I think they feel as if something would change" He watched as her eyes slowly regain their warmth back. He could see her amazement as they pass by the floors that he actually has pride in. The second floor consists of another lobby like, though has all the partnerships the company has; this included the wedding vendors. The third was a gallery of all the best photographs of their clients' weddings.

"They don't have a reason to"

"Honestly, I think you will be the reason"

The fourth was a collection of sorts, all were replicas of Horace's designs, the fifth and sixth were the bridal gowns, dresses, basically everything which could be worn, that are allowed to be bought or rented.

"I hope not"

"You're different, Olive-"

The seventh were the suits. eight was where all the desk jobs were, stations were scattered, though as by his strict code, all was organized at least. Ninth was the mini cafeteria.

"-and I can't believe I'd say this but I'm glad you're here"

Lastly, the tenth held the meeting room, his office, some other desk jobs, and due to the need of a huge space, Horace's work station.

Upon arrival, behind the glass elevator doors reveal Horace and Claire. Her eyes immediately lit up once she saw both of her former housemates. It had been a while, even when she already saw Claire a month ago. To see them at that moment brought happy tears in her eyes.

As soon as the elevator opened, she ran- not caring if there were stoic people around or if she would accidentally trip by the thinness of her stilettos, to Horace. Back when she was just eight, Horace was also one of those grown ups who used to take care of her. How she missed him so. All of them, actually.

"Hello, cuddle bug" he hugged her back, using the affectionate nickname he gave her when she was just a small Olive.

"We've been asking for you for ages, Olive," once untangling herself from Horace, she also enveloped Claire into a hug, "thought Enoch held you hostage in his lair."

"Her blabber can make her way through" the man in question fired back, pretending she was not there but she'll make sure she's felt. "Hey" She elbowed him on the side of his stomach, hard enough for him to take a step back.

"See, Claire, this is what you got me into"

"Honestly I'm pretty proud of myself for that" Claire looked bewildered with how close the two opposite people she know of. She cannot help but take pride of what was currently unfolding in front of their eyes. To see the two together, looking at each other with unrealized affection made her more enthusiastic with how their story would unfold.

* * *

Once Enoch sits on his office chair, you cannot make him talk about anything other than work, he only looks at her pointedly and nods or shake his head, other than that, she lose. Thankfully, he made a better use of her as he made her do a summary report of the statistics. She also volunteered in making him mugs of hot cocoa for the meeting.

Apparently for Olive, there's no such thing as too much chocolate.

Though that'll require her alot of cardio workout.

She went down to the ninth floor, scanning all the stalls, smiling to her apparent co-workers, before reaching the mini kitchen.

"Oh, hello again Ms. Elephanta" a familiar voice greeted. She glanced to her left and was surprised to see Charlotte, she was midway to opening the fridge when she saw Olive. Her light eyes were still cold but at least her voice sounded less robotic.

"Hi Charlotte, I'm making hot cocoa, do you want one?" She asked, deciding not to meddle in with how her coworker is.

"No, thank you Miss"

"Are you allergic to chocolates?"

"No-"

"Then have one, I heard chocolates feel as good as sex anyways"

Charlotte almost choked on her own saliva but being a well guarded girl she is, she only looked as if she blinked. Olive swore she saw her almost smile though "How can you tolerate him?"

Now, she can truly see what it is going on with the people around her. Enoch had said he was not Mr. Popularity anywhere, and of course the company belonged in that 'anywhere' category. Even right from the start, she knew he has a hard time with people. They always want nothing to do with him, or even change him for that matter.

"I do not tolerate him," she took a sip on her own mug and continued "I tell him when he hurts my feelings"

Charlotte looked at her weirdly, "the last time that happened, he fired that employee on the spot"

Not being biased though, she knew where the people are getting at. It'll take alot of breaking walls first before really getting to know the sweet, caring Enoch O'Connor. But before reaching that, one must have alot of layers of skin to be able to handle his sarcasm, wit, and straight forward mouth.

"You know what Ms. Elephanta? I can see that you've got such a good heart, you're good for him. I really hope you won't ever quit," she resisted her first decision and finally scooped a mug from Olive's tray "thank you for the hot cocoa"

* * *

 _So what do you think of the Olive, Enoch, Zachary concept? I really do hope Olive's actions are justifiable cause I feel like that's a part of reality. I don't know, lend me your thoughts?_


	14. Opposite Sides: Thick Skin

**Chapter 14**

 **Opposite Sides:**

 **Thick skin, won't let you in**

She gripped the trolley way too tightly, agitated by the possibility of making a slip, having everything slide and fall. Everybody who she shares the elevator with, were all giving her mugs questionable looks, as if they cannot fathom how she was even permitted to work in the business world. She exhaled in unease, blowing some hair strands out of her face.

To her disbelief, the people she felt trapped with were also those who she'd be serving. They all left the elevator doors at the same pace and shared the same direction towards the meeting room. She pretended she can't hear the sounds the trolley's rollers emitting.

The room was elongated and the walls were white. It was a usual get up of any other meeting rooms. A long mahogany table was placed at the center, black, cozy, office chairs were spread underneath them. She quickly searched for Enoch as she felt a surge of panic rise, thankfully, of course, he was there in his seat. At the lead, without any hint of nerves.

She rolled her trolley and then, seat by seat, whilst trying hard not to meet anyone's eyes, she placed a mug of hot cocoa on their desks. Some uttered thank you's to her, which she responded with a smile and a polite "no worries", but there were probably two people who only stared unblinking, trying to make sense of her. She was suddenly tired, and so she lets Enoch's words, comfort her. They did, somehow.

When it seemed that everybody was drinking their own fill, she smiled to her herself, thinking that her work was done. She walked with her back straight once more, oblivious with Enoch's eyes observing her every move. Though unaware, she felt relaxed, safe, as if she's being guarded if by some instance, those who were looking at her funnily will accuse her of being someone who doesn't deserve to be in such field.

Despite her sleeves, she felt, aware this time, his warm hand holding her in place. She looked at him, her eyes wide but still guarded; she knows Enoch wasn't expecting himself to do it and she doesn't need any audience to react negatively with their work relationship.

As sudden as it was for the heat to travel down to her toes, so was the way he snatched his hand back too quickly. He adjusted himself, still looking at her with those piercing eyes, still, with his equally guarded lips.

"The meeting will start soon, boss. I have to go" She tried to diffuse the fire, reminding her of the ground she's on in his life. Similar to their work dynamic, so was their relationship. Purely far from reach.

He looked at her, all serious- more than usual, and puts a sternness in his voice, "Exactly what I intend to say to you. You're my assistant, you are staying"

And so she did.

It was quite awhile, enough for her to be comfortable, before the soon-to-be weds arrived.

She was surprised to see the Margaret Mason, a model who made fame from having her face on the covers of magazines, act on films with tear-jerking purposes, and catwalk on runways, enter the room. Her heart must've skipped a beat because of the woman's beauty. A good 5'10 with a heart shaped face and golden hair. She was just wearing a simple white dress, yet she still looked sophisticated.

Behind her was a man Olive would've fainted if beauty can cause such reaction. He has curly hair with the color of the midnight sky and skin that has her name's sake. His eyes were cold, gray and striking, but turned warm when Margaret placed her hand to the nook of his arm.

"Good afternoon, everybody" Margaret greeted, her smile true and shy, not the usual bold lips that graze on the screens. Olive smiled back, still dazed with the walking aesthetic she's staring at.

Then, she looked at Enoch, trying to gauge his reaction- especially to the girl with beauty that she can proudly admit she hopes she has.

He stood up and offered his hand to the two. Margaret was the first to accept, then so did the man. His eyes looked at each of them, though they did not graze far too long to mean a message. She shrugged to herself, annoyed with how jealous she got. Of course, yes, Margaret was here because she's getting married, but just because she is doesn't mean Enoch cannot admire her beauty. At least Olive will know what Enoch finds appealing.

Enoch threw her a glance, she thought he was to ask for something but he only shook his head.

"Let's start?" He simply offered.

The whole room buzzed with business talks that Olive seemed to name as frigidly objective. She felt invisible amidst them all of a sudden. Each sharp cladded person she sees were sending such thick vibes that she automatically understood that flamboyance was their key to attract clients; in which, she shrugged her own thoughts away, simply marking them invaluable. Instead, she resorted to sipping small sizes in her mug, staring at the couple across her with interest.

They were two contrasting people. One, the woman, being pretty, dainty, untouchable, smooth on every place, and the other, her man, being all calloused with faint bags under his eyes and controlled demeanor.

Olive scanned the innocent file Enoch wordlessly gave her. He apparently saw her looking and her, being all expressive, and he, being an observant man that he is, shifted to an automatic response. She didn't give an opportunity for her blush to make a comical expression on her face. And so, she busied herself with reading the background.

The woman, the ever dazzling Margaret Mason was an only child from a wealthy bloodline and a successful well known father. The aspect of struggling financially was foreign to her. In fact, all she ever had to worry was identifying anything that their money cannot buy. Despite that, she had a bleak childhood though. She was painfully shy with only two friends growing up; and one was who she's not sure if the range of friendship was mutual.

The man, however, Gabriel Avocet was born on the other side of town, struggling and surviving each single day with a large family to feed. He grew up way too early, yet he was surrounded with siblings he whole heartedly love. At least, he was never lonely.

They somehow revolved in the same slice of land without having to do with the other until they were by their adolescent years. She had always been aware of him- for it was impossible not to ogle when she clearly had not anything better to do, but was certain that they were both out of each other's league. He secretly watched her too, masking his attraction with false thoughts of the girl with the pristine shoes.

It was not a deal of love at first sight for them, but more on serendipity. They were always on the same place at the right and wrong time. Even though they started with wrong impressions, and when they forge to different paths, still, life has a way of putting everything together. Somehow, yes, it worked.

"As it turns out, we can push through with September 22. All we need is your go signal, then we can finalize the small details"

She closed the folder and stared as Enoch lets his question hang in the air. The twosome in front shared one tensed look to each other, the man's hand inching closer to grab the woman's upon her knee, attaching some sense of comfort.

The whole table seemed to wait for her answer. Olive felt so because Gabriel's gaze was steadily still on the marble, his back straight as if on guard, protecting the girl from any possible spite.

She tried to smile to the girl, she knew what she must be feeling, being subjected to all of those gazes. They're all too calloused, too transfixed with the bigger picture, she cannot help but fret. They wouldn't probably understand.

"Miss Margaret?" Enoch pushed, puzzled by the issue at hand.

That reminded her how the world always seems to watch her. And so Margaret straightened her posture, her eyes glazing over as they go detached, "I-I need a moment"

She looked over the table, asserting her own steel. Olive smiled encouragingly and was glad that she got a small nod before excusing herself.

Gabriel followed her with his cold, gray eyes- though Olive saw a shift of warmth that clung to Margaret as she walked away.

"Shall we continue this, Gabriel?"

Olive groaned, giving her boss a sharp glare, but the prick was oblivious.

Gabriel's stance stiffened, his brows fighting to knit.

"Are you certain of that question, Mr. O'Connor?"

Olive was thankful that the man has the sense of giving her idiot friend, a chance to redeem himself. Somewhere below the table, she knew where his hand is, and just where his elbow can be touched. She nudged him quite too roughly, Enoch could only wince because of the sudden movement.

"I just thought-"

"We need to wait for her," a pair of gray eyes gave the door one lingering glance "she's just having a rough time lately, so let her breathe, people"

"This tension is not good not just for the baby, but also for the party involved. I think she just needs someone to talk to, someone who understands the hormones without any pretension," co-workers judgement be damned, she actually, earnestly want to make it right, "so if you'll let me, Mr. Gabriel"

Although the man's jaw was still clenched, his eyes seemed to give away his vulnerability. He was suddenly tired. But he smiled back.

"Probably need a pep talk"

* * *

The comfort room was filled with thick silence, it was as though unoccupied. Still, when she entered, she was welcomed with Margaret's figure, straight and staring at the wall mirror, eyeing but not entirely seeing her troubled expression.

She closed the door with a soft click, the other inhabitant gave her a glance and a sorry excuse of a smile.

"Hello" It was foolish but she suddenly felt shy, moving sheepishly next to the stunner.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name. I've only seen you today" She heard a strain in her voice, but she did not asked of it.

"Yes, my first day. I'm Olive, but you can call me by anything. Well, except Magpie though, my best friend said she's the only one to use it"

Olive babbles when she's nervous, but thankfully, it always gain a positive response. Margaret's no exception, she lets a loose smile brighten her stressed out expression. Olive grinned widely, happy for making a good progress.

"I'm sorry for the drama I caused there. It's highly unprofessional and lousy, what was I thinking?" To Olive's credit, Margaret slouched to the counter, a small smile grazing on her face. Warmth replaced the tiredness of her eyes.

"It's okay, you know. I understand, well, not fully, but I feel like I do. I can feel it in my bones, that I understand somehow"

"I owe my success to the people who supported me, I promised myself that I'll do everything I can to please them. But as it turns out, they're making me choose between this family I'll be building, and them." Margaret blurted out, her eyes focused on the marble of the counter. The torment was back in her eyes. "They thought he'll hurt me, use me, but they don't understand. Just because he doesn't show it for the world to see, doesn't mean we don't love each other"

Olive simply looked at their faces on the mirror, making the other girl's eyes stare back. They were both different looking individuals with different paths in life, but strangely, her heart beats as if it knew what it must feel. She haven't and would probably not have the same experience, but somehow, her own emotions swelled with unexplained familiarity.

"If this could help, I've always looked up to you. The way I see it, he brings the side of you nobody ever saw in the screens. I see happiness, something worth having headaches of. Not everybody would agree with everything you do, but what's important are those who truly care about you and I know they'll be there in every step of the way," She said, letting her subjectiveness speak the truth. "I do know you'll make a great family. I can see the way he looked at you. How dedicated and willing he is to face the world with you by his side. Plus, you'll make pretty attractive children"

Margaret giggled despite the tint that colored her nose. She grabbed Olive's arm and squeezed, Olive though, subjected her with her hug, sending the troubled girl some support and strength.

"For what it's worth, I tend to believe we are all Icarus somewhat. Born with the yearning to be elsewhere, anywhere rather than trapped in this world. With him, Olive, with him, I feel as though my heart is flying and my soul content"

* * *

The East London streets were in a peaceful daze as it was in an odd, late afternoon time. The skies were violet and the girl's brown eyes looked a bit darker. He shrugged himself, clearly wanting to remember a time when he grew artistic all of a sudden.

He clicked his seatbelt on and she followed in tow, a lot less noisy as he thought she'd elicit. Coming afterwards, she sighed dreamily, her lips stretching to a smile and he observed that she had just reapplied her red lipstick.

And was now changed into a little black dress that fit quite gorgeously to her petite frame. Gorgeous she was, and it made him feel uncomfortable.

"You're wearing lipstick and a dress" He commented, dumbly.

"Is that the first step for your recognition that I am infact, a girl?" It seemed to irritate her though. Her face scrunched, her wide eyes defensive as they looked at each other.

"Gee, Elephanta, don't get your knickers on a twist. I am perfectly aware," _more than she could imagine_ ,"you do know I am pretty much reminded of it every month"

He blushed for his implication, which made him feel annoyed because of his prudishness. Unlike him, Olive wasn't much for censorship, and albeit her whole set up that made her look mature, she still snorted cheekily, and softly jabbed his shoulder. "Hey, it's not my fault our endometrium is sadistic. Just be thankful you don't go from crying over puppies to being utterly, sexually frustrated, while also craving for a tub of chocolate ice cream, or sort of have the urge to rule the world, in just a matter of minutes"

"Uh, I don't know if you're aware, but I don't need to know that you're sometimes sexually frustrated" She was impossible. He couldn't imagine, let alone even process that in his head. Of course, he grew up in a household that revolved around the sciences, and he once had a fascination with human anatomy and all. For some reason though, he felt his skin prickle, and he was not proud of it.

"Oh whatever, Mr. Prude. Don't worry, I'll get this frustration elsewhere" She said, wrapping her arms below her chest.

He continued driving then, rolling his eyes exaggeratedly just so she'd know he was annoyed. She smirked, pulling herself up and noised her hands to the stereo.

The speaker went alive with the sounds of stomping and male agony. Olive's eyes held a spark, "oh, I love this song" and she increased the volume slightly.

 _I can't feel no remorse, and you don't feel nothing back_

She began singing along, he began frowning in concentration. She was not the best singer, but at least she whole heartedly accepted the flaw and laughed at him for his pain.

"Where's he taking you, anyway?"

"You can drop me off at the movie theatre, we'll just see a movie, hang out" That only made her halt, but had still caught up with the lyrics.

"Aren't you a bit overdressed?"

He wasn't sure if she was annoyed because she was offended, or because he kept on interrupting her.

"Wait up, this is my favorite part," he raised his brow, eyes still on the road. The song bursted with a piano solo and she raised both of her hands and began tapping her fingers to imitate which keys the melody might be, which were poorly wrong.

He laughed good humored, shaking his head slightly as she still does it with all her energy. She even has the confidence to whisper inhumane noises, as compared to that of what she's trying to copy.

"Done. Now, where was I? Oh yes, I just want to be obvious, you know? I'm a young woman and I have needs, Enoch"

He only nodded numbly. Uncertain why his mood turned foul all of a sudden. He wasn't sure if she was pertaining to the psychological Hierarchy of Needs or just plainly, and had scared him to think, the desires. It bothered him still, to know that he couldn't do anything about his frustrations, namely, sometimes, the need to know what it must be like to press his lips to hers. He knew it was wrong,she was his friend.

Her gaze was bold on his, and he suddenly felt the need to shift on his seat. He pulled a topic out of thin air blindly, trying to revert the tense topic he unintentionally started.

"You had it all wrong"

"What?"

"The piano part, Olive. That wasn't clearly how it goes"

"Oh, yeah? I'd like to see you do it then, Mr. Piano Man"

Fortunately for him, he conversation was cut off. Olive seemed to sense that he got uncomfortable along the way, and so she decided to leave him alone. In that moment, he rather listen and feel the inside of the vehicle come alive with her antics. They were near the theatre now, and he'd have to endure the rest of the home without her to keep him company.

Her voice was alot more confident, if that was possible. The chorus seemed to draw her in every time. She entertained him as he laugh at the times when she even adds interpretative movements to the song. Somehow, even after the long day, he felt as if she was still wearing the ridiculous outfit she had the first time he saw her. It amused him to know that even if one would dress her up into anything, Olive will still be her bubbly, chatty self. That thought made him warm.

 _I can't feel no remorse, and you can't see pass my blindness_

* * *

He kept replaying the part all over again. His thoughts were rambled as he kept pressing the keys and watch the things that frustrate him so spill over the feverish anguish and hidden sadness in the piece.

When Olive climbed down from her seat, his gaze was threatening as the green eyed boy appeared and his hand was bold enough to skirt and stay on her lower back. Olive even looked amused and extremely welcoming it. In fact, she pressed her weight to the boy, inclining her head to meet his lips with hers.

He looked away, respecting their privacy, and possibly, his own self. He was no masochist, he didn't choose to admit it to himself just yet, but he wouldn't let his cowardice further push him to things that'll only hurt him.

Maybe it was because he was a man after all. Olive was a woman. No big deal, it was inevitable to yearn for physical intimacy even when he's pretty uptight.

She came home by eleven, her heels in her hands and lipstick slightly smudged, but not enough to conclude of. He was still in his piano seat, scrolling on his phone when he was caught being seen waiting for her.

"Wow, you really wanted to prove something to me, don't you?" He looked like a child being caught stealing someone's sweets. She walked up to him. He scooted then, proving her thought true. She sat next to him, her slightly damp skin touching his warm arm.

"Of course, wouldn't have it any other way"

He met her eyes, seeing her familiar browns and he calmed. Without warning, his fingers worked and he thought of her lips and the way he seemed to deny how she slid herself to every corner of his being. He was perfectly fine hating on the green eyed boy just because he hates people, but now that the reason was apparent, it was all too much.

She began singing along, her murmurs vibrating from her body. They were so close, he could feel every word vibrate from her chest. Her skin was too cold and damp, he felt as if she was glued to him. She was though, wasn't she? Ever since she hugged him that odd, dull day.

When everything was finished, he sat stunned. His fingers were numb and red. He also made a mental note that he tremendously pressed the wrong note a couple times. Thus, he glanced at her, fearing that she saw his flaws and awaited for the grimace and disappointment.

She leaned on his shoulder and hummed an appreciative sound. "Didn't know Enoch O'Connor's a virtuoso"

"Hardly. I messed it up, didn't you hear it?"

She froze from her place but lets her hand grab his upon the white keys. "So what if you did? It still sounded phenomenal. It was beautiful. I wouldn't have you any other way" Maybe she was sleepy, or she was just being so ever truthful.

She pressed absent-minded upon the key, not knowing what note it was but his heart fled as high as the pitch.

He remembered his mother on the same spot as she was, patronizing him with her cold and blank stare as he failed to get a piece perfectly. She would stand up then, leaving him on his own misery and self pity.

Her head moved against his shoulder blade, her hot breath against his skin. She must've felt him inch away again, but this time, maybe she knew how to bring him back.

"Will you play it again?"

And so he played the piece as his hands led him. He would do so often get lost with his mother in thought but Olive's voice below her ear reminded him that he was not berated now. Not cold and unwanted- unsure.

 _Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl like a drug._

His heart came in chaos along the part she loved so much. It was strangely alive and he was well aware of it. For once, he played the piano as if it was not an obligation, for the second time around, the first one being the aftermath of Victor's death, he was transparent, and his heart's beating was vibrating against the skin of his neck. Olive must've felt it too, and ever so slowly, her lips enclosed to his pulse and placed a kiss.

He was done for.

 _Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls love._

* * *

 _It was alot better in my head, forgive me!_

 _I was quite attached to a certain ship by the time I was writing the first half of this chapter. Drop a ship in the review below if you have a hint as to who those might be!_

 _And oh, the song was Ophelia by The Lumineers. They have this music video trilogy called The Ballad of Cleopatra that I was also in love with during that time, and I thought it matches Enoch and Olive's current relationship in this story, so I combined everything up and made this. I am terribly sorry if it was obviously, messy and all over the place._

 _Please do leave a review! I'm sort of uninspired with writing for quite a while now, life's been really busy and I'm not coping that well to be honest. A little comment knowing somebody still reads this will be a huge help. Thank you though, for reading x_


	15. Opposite Sides: Heart on Your Sleeves

_Hi guys! I know it's pretty late but I want to greet you merry christmas and a happy new year!_

 _I know I once stated that this story was supposed to be a slow burn, but I realized I've been going in circles in the first phase and we already reached 15 chapters! Wow! So I sped it slightly up, but believe me, it'll take alot of things before we'd finally reach the end. I really do hope it didn't turn out forced or anything, but anyway, please do review what you think of it._

* * *

 **Chapter 15**

 **Opposite Sides:**

 **Wearing your heart on your sleeves**

It was a week before the second presentation, another dance that will determine whether she can fly her dreams to reality. The concept was simple: Apply the dynamics in one adagio, mainly of a pas de deux. Everything will go well, won't it? She has Zachary with her. They move in synch and in expression.

But lately.. Lately he'd been quite distant. Well, as distant as how he could in order to react to her own always preoccupied self. And being Zachary, who was always one sunshine doubled from hers, it was baffling.

He kept avoiding having eye contact with her, almost as if they're to perform Medusa, though it was entirely the opposite. He was usually the touchy one; all confident with his intentions and passion, but now, it was as if he was a different entity. She was scared to ask because she knew the answer wouldn't be what she's prepared to face. Zachary might have an inkling of it, somehow. What else could've stopped him? He was the assured one.

Too bad she only got seven more days to face the truth. Olive never was the person who takes letting go easily. If anything, she hoards and hoards until her heart is full and it gets crowded enough, enough to affect both her and the ones she held dearly. Everything that barged out left with certain silly things to remind Olive of them. Those were shadows lurking in the chambers of her heart (not the physiological ones, mind you, but to her sentiment).

It was almost as if the world shifted. The moment she kissed a patch of skin on Enoch's neck was the epiphany everybody sort of waited for. Sharon would always throw them suggestive looks with his thick eyebrows, Mama Dust and Ronaldo were more vulgar with their smug ones and obvious satisfaction, and Claire and Horace always wore teasing grins. It was amazing how Enoch stood his ground as if unaffected. The man in question became more expressive, though sadly, not enough for her to just jump his skin and admit things she kept repressing.

Somewhat, she was aware with how his hair naturally parts on the left, the strands light, caressing his forehead in an unkempt way. She had just realized that Enoch O'Connor has the ocean in his eyes. The rims beneath were sunken cliffs, casting shadows to the steep, onto the light blues of his set that were the seas. She couldn't help but stare. Especially when he in return, was unaware.

He flexed his arm to brush his strands away from his eyes, immediately, her eyes moved to the veins of his wrist- which, she couldn't even understand why she has a weakness for, but her cheeks blushed and her knees felt jelly. Still, she slowly traced the lines that must've went underneath his shirt. The earth crawled inside his skin, which covered the fruit that was his heart. The very thing she'd been curious and yearning to harvest. What it must be like to walk in his world? To live drenched with his love?

She squirmed in her seat, coughed idly, and continued whisking the syrup to her dough. She may not be a cook but she can damn well do things for the sake of sweets. Feeling flattered by receiving thumb ups not just from Mama Dust, but also from the self proclaimed non-sweet tooth Enoch, she offered baking them those in exchange of having Zachary come by and discuss their upcoming performance. She had been rather active with paying back Enoch lately, which she was pretty pleased with herself for accomplishing.

Once she momentarily moved to a new topic with her mind, her eyes skirted to the man in front of her, hoping she'd catch a small glimpse again, yet she was taken aback when he was already looking back.

So much for successfully blocking any thoughts of him.

Pretending to forget about the butterfly collywobbles in her tummy, she raised one brow and smirked. "Hey want to hear something ironic?"

"I don't have any choice do I?" He reverted his blue eyes back on his laptop screen, but his lips quirked accidentally, revealing his seldomly shown amusement.

"You help open a new chapter to people's lives but you share last names with this certain famous undertaker from Wales, and he is basically closing the book"

Enoch tilted his head to her, his lips opening a small gap in the middle. "Care to ask me why little lady?"

He must've been getting her for all the times she teased him for being older, albeit of just being a few years. She decided not to let him know she was ticked off, how it all came boomeranging onto her. It was not much of an issue, but when it came from his thoughts, left from his mouth, it felt as if he constructed distance between them.

"Humor me grumpy pants" She lets the statement slide before thinking of it. So much for showing how precocious she can be.

"Because I happen to be his son. Does that make sense to you?"

"That's a big shift right there," she blinked, the smile on her face evident, almost shining. He rolled his eyes in return, going back to his work that he scanned over for the umpteenth time. She tried to imagine a younger him going about the funeral house. Instead of all the linings of pretty gowns and bouquets, there were coffins of every color, "tell me more, please"

"You're a nosy one, really" He seemed to be taken aback.

"Come on, Enoch"

She knew it was because he grew up neutral with his family, especially his mother. But it seemed as if despite it, he found interesting things along the way. She was quite curious with how the tides shifted, that instead of planning for the wake, he chose to plan for people's beginnings.

"Why are you so interested anyway?"

She glanced at him with a comforting smile, then started plucking the formed doughs to her tray "Well, for one, I'm curious with how you ended up planning people's weddings," once finished piling, she took the tray, moved ending up shying her eyes from him as she inserts the doughs to the the oven behind, all while taking her next statement in consideration, "two, do you- I mean, miss them?"

He took a quick look at her, scanned her unsure face, and smirked.

"Nothing much, really. I just wanted to piss my mother off. And I rather enjoy bossing people out,-"

"Figures"

"-and, well," his eyes had a distant look in them that Olive couldn't help but notice. His past is something that she still thinks of, something that she knew not fully yet. There were still puzzle pieces missing, such pivotal patches that still haunt him. She hopes he'll let her in, "they visit every holiday so I happen to see them more than you think"

"and when's that?"

"my birthday"

She stared at him accusing, feeling betrayed as she didn't even know when it was. Plus, she didn't think of a gift, another plus, his family were to visit and she probably had sleep deprived written across her forehead. She looked at her reflection to the stainless bowl, checking. Scratch that, she looked like a hysterical raccoon.

Her hand reached out to him, slapping him lightly to his arm. Remnants of dough were imprinted on his shirt sleeve.

"What was that for?" He looked at her bewildered, as though he didn't expect that at all.

She lifted her lips into a thin smile, "you didn't even tell me" and tried to reach out, smearing dough onto his cheek.

To her amusement, he almost smiled in humor as well. His blue eyes moved to meet hers, she stared back, immediately distracted. He moved, inching closer, his hands out of her peripheral vision, which one of the pair was crawling its way to dip into some flour.

"Well, it's not like I announce it to the world"

"Yeah, especially that you'd grow a year older again" A breath away. She could see the specks of deep blue in his irises, smell the scent that feel comforting, tickling her tummy to ache, wanting to be closer, so much closer.

"Oh, so that's where you'll head it?" His hand shifted and immediately, she lets out a surprise squeak. He blew the flour onto the space between them, coating her face and chest with white. His booming laugh resonated in front of her, though she matched with her own as she opened her eyes to see that he was affected as well.

"Bring it on, old man" She quickly grabbed the bowl and moved to catch him. Upon realizing what she planned, he shrieked and began making a run for it. Unfortunately, because of his long legs and her short ones, he was a tad faster than she was, despite running like a mad man, spilling some flour onto the hallway, and almost falling as her feet criss cross with each other.

They ran in circles- she snorted when she thought of it. Her, running to catch him, him, being oblivious with what she felt for him. They move through his study, amidst Mama Dust's happy sigh, Ronaldo's teasing, then the lounge room, his piano, pass the grand staircase, and finally the hallway yet again. He hopped onto his foot, turning so that he was back running. "What's that? Still learning how to run, baby?" She fought her cheeks to blush, of course it wasn't what she wanted for it to mean. But that word with the deepness of his voice? Wow.

"Oh, having the midlife crisis already, Enoch?" She forced herself to have even just an inch closer. He was closer finally, within arms reach. With one hand around her bowl, the other holding out aimlessly to him, she charged.

He stepped unconsciously to the mess underneath. His foot met the spilled flour and immediately, he went out balanced as his hands sprawled onto the air, a graphic representation of a rooster running amok. Coincidentally, Olive's foot still stepped, not having the function to stop her momentum in one quick halt. She, in return, fell like water falls, all in quick motion, onto him.

They ended up sprawled to the floor, bowl upside down next to their shoulders and her on top of him, his arms around her waist. Her chest felt his own one grumble as he groan underneath her. She opened her eyes, blinking twice as she stared at his opening ones.

Her face a thumb away from his. Even though she already knew his warmth as she once wrapped her arms around him, it was a lot more different. He was all over, everywhere, even in the sharp intakes of breath her chest needed. Wherever he touched, her skin burned in anticipation, her arms, her back, her waist, her chest. She wanted him closer, touch every fibre of her being, let every part of her body, her soul ignite with the heat he awakened. Yet, there was no other profound feeling than the way he made her feel warm, secured, something utterly wonderful. His eyes connecting with hers and his heart thumping against her skin, calming her onto waves of gratitude.

His mouth parted, brows frowning slightly. She couldn't help but to stare at the way his lips glistened, almost as though tempting her to just lean in and plant her own longing ones beneath. But she couldn't, could she? Not when she was not the girl perfect for him, nonetheless, seemed fit.

"Olive?" The hand from his back crept up to her cheek, the look of confusion was replaced to a concerned one. He probably saw from her clumsy eyes the longing, how earnestly she wanted him to need her. And all he could ever give was an apology.

Her tummy hurt all the way to where her heart must be, but it was the pain she knew she'd accept, is accepting, already accepted the moment her tears fell for Enoch O'Connor. Of the hurt, the tinge of pain, of unrealized jealously, in that moment, she knew, none of them could compare with the safety, the comfort, the heat, the momentous happiness, the freeing acceptance she has whenever she's with him.

She raised her lips into a watery smile, her eyes turning glassy from the epiphany. Enoch leaned further, his lips moving onto a whisper of her name and his eyes searched for any reason behind her forming tears.

"Olive, what's wrong?"

His thumb went to her bottom lip, tracing it softly with the pad of his finger. Such tender act made her lips part, her eyes tempted to close, wanting any form of resolve slip. Friends don't get tangled in a heap of a mess, tracing the other's lips just because of concern.

Just a pull from the back of his neck, a tilt from her head...

"Oh, oh fu-, bloody hell, I didn't see anything, nope, nada, not one bit" Ronaldo broke them apart, as though a little boy pulling two magnets from each other, enjoying the sound they elicit.

As though a flash, she sat on her bum, "oh innocent Ronaldo, there's nothing to see". As hard as she tries to hide her puddle of emotions, Enoch however, was fast on his feet, his cheeks red and obvious, even with his hair trying in vain to hide his face. Ronaldo's brows raised, his eyes darting from the twosome. "Kids these days," he murmured, before plastering one teasing smile, "I put the biscuits on the counter already, something's already burning up around here, can't handle another one, can we?"

"If you'll kindly spare me from your ways, Ronaldo, I'm going to take a shower" Enoch excused himself, his eyes focused and aversive from any form of eye contact. Olive could only watch as he walk away from the embarrassing situation that he left her all alone to face.

Once out of sight, Ronaldo turned his non divided attention to her, his face immediately going sober. She huffed and stood, brushing some flour that seemed to cling to her hair. Out of thin air, the younger man pulled, "you know, the hardest things to move on from are those you never did anything about.

"Zachary's already here, Olive. Don't worry, I'll sweep this" She stood nodding aimlessly, her eyes blinking to one particular spot on the ground. "Thank you" Ronaldo squeezed her arm and retired, off to grab supplies out of the cleaning storage, leaving her alone to digest his words.

She went back, distracted to her thoughts. The living room had always fascinated her, the way everything looked so elegant and quiet and pretty to look at, but what captured her attention that moment was the man sitting hunched, as though defeated, upon the couch of the reason why she couldn't reciprocate his feelings. Seeing Zachary after the sudden flood of honesty made her feel much more unworthy of his devotion. She felt like a huge arse.

"Hey," she started, startling him from his thoughts. They were all seemed to be preoccupied lately.

"Hi," he lets a second of his vulnerable emotion slip. For a moment, she saw him look at her with a sad expression in his eyes, which he quickly averted his gaze just so she wouldn't further understand. As he forms his smile, so was her frown; he was hurting and she knew too well she caused it.

"Zach-" She advanced, her hand reaching out towards him.

"Let's start?" He stood up abruptly, avoiding her gaze.

They met in the middle, the melodies running in the background with her heart beating fast and hard in her ears. She didn't know how to ease his pain. For the most part, she wished she could've just loved him the way he was willing to love her. If only that was the case, but it wasn't.

She was supposed to move, was the first to start the act, but she did not bulge. He inclined his head, turned to her right then left, and finally leveled his stare to the center, though not focal to her eyes.

"Zachary, look at me, please"

"I couldn't, love" he uttered in defeat. "I saw it Olive, you beneath him. Your eyes, the way you looked at him, have always looked at him."

Ever since they met, she always knew his welcoming heart was bigger than it seems, which says something when he always thought he never had any passion at all. That's why when he lifted his green, innocent, passionate, pained eyes, her heart ached, her lips forming into a thin line.

"Oh, Zachary," she held his jaw in her hands, her thumbs tracing his skin underneath, wanting to sooth him in any way possible. But he closed his eyes and frowned, shaking her hold off him.

"I couldn't look at you and see how you can't see me the way he is to you" He tried to smile just so he'd comfort her. Pure and lovely Zachary, worrying with how much she's hurting because of him. She suddenly felt exhausted, slumping herself down to the couch he'd been on a while ago.

The same couch she sat onto as he asked her what love was, where she left her blanket and he sincerely returned.

She closed her eyes and rested her face to her palms. Of all of her thoughts, he consumed almost all of it. Even now, of all times, Enoch didn't fail to pop up.

Zachary sighed and in a heartbeat, kneeled in front of her, his hand gently squeezing her knee. "I told you I am willingly to wait, didn't I? But the thing is, do you really want me to?"

She blinked back the frustrating tears, locking her brown to his green eyes. He looked at her almost pleadingly, but she couldn't afford raising his hopes up, not when she already knew what she feels for Enoch, that he was also not just another passing fancy at all. Zachary was a lot like her, the male version of her apparently. The way his eyes gaze as if he'd give her his world was probably how she stares longingly to Enoch, to her friend. What she'd give, she'd agree to hurt just so he'd be completely happy.

Sacrifice, she'd be sacrificing the safety of having Zachary around. But she'd been selfish for so long. Her decision will be unrealistic, perhaps even stupid. Supposedly, gone were the days of being hopeless romantic-even though she probably is one, society expects her to set out and think of herself, okay, sure, but it wasn't fair anymore.

"I-," panic took her in its embrace, leaving her inhaling and exhaling deeply to fill the void. He took her hands in his, warming them up to help relax her.

"Olive, do you love me?"

"Of course Zachary"

"But not as much as you love Enoch, right?"

She stared, hard, melting though at the same time, gaze turning into steel. Was it obvious how hopeless of a case she is?

Somehow, it was a parallel situation, him with her, her with Enoch, and Enoch with his supposed dream girl.. But it was different. She could still save Zachary from hurting further, whereas she's already balls deep on her own.

That's the thing isn't it? What if Zachary thought of her the way she thought of Enoch? That she was worth pining over?

She's not worth it, was Enoch?

Perhaps they really were different at some points, because Zachary.. He took chances.

"You are, aren't you?" The strength he had that urged him to be completely brave was suddenly gone once she nodded her head to tell him yes. He exhaled deeply, his shoulders slumping as he smiled through the broken expression in his eyes.

"I think I love him," she whispered, sighing once she lets it out. She didn't know it was affecting her physically until her own chest felt as though some heavy weight was lifted and her eyes sprung tears of relief. It was the truth that kept her from being truly herself, that held her back from experiencing having to love somebody as deeply as she wanted to.

"Yeah, yes you do" He said, sheepishly. "You always look at him with that awe, that warmth, that passion, you know. I just thought I could win you over-"

"I'm sorry, Zachary" Her words were watery, her voice was expressing regret, though she wished she loved him more, she does not regret falling in love with her friend. As foolish as it sounds, for just a month of knowing him, she couldn't bare think about not having to meet him. She does not want to know, just thinking about it make her heart ache with dread.

"No, no I'm sorry Olive." He grabbed her arms, shook her gently, and enveloped her in his warmth. "I always knew there's something going on between the two of you, I was just selfish to squeeze myself in and hurt you both"

If she caught on with him implying the emotions run mutual to her supposedly unrequited love, she did not act upon it, possibly thinking he only viewed Enoch as a competition. She inclined her head in his arms, her eyes teary though there were no longer running down her face. His arms tightened around her waist, his breath hot on her temple, breathing her in.

"Don't worry about me, Olive, I'd rather see you happy"

"I love you and thank you, Zachary"

A small pause, fingers trailing down her hair, then a stretch of a smile that released her, "I love you too, dear"

He moved from her and flashed the usual playful Zachary she knew, his eyes grinning along the one plastered on his lips, "now run along and take a shower cause you sure are covered in flour and soot".

* * *

All his life, he had always been sure of everything he does. Never not ready, always with back guarded and actions calculated. Emotions, he believed, were just chemicals altered by the brain, spreading through the blood stream, all for physiological gratification and awarding arousal.

Logical, he was. Some might say he's pessimistic, as Emma once bravely labeled him of... But he just happen to know how to live safely, to stay alive in a world without getting any marks on his skin, on his very own being.

But he slipped, though he was already screwed when Olive entered the picture. He thought he could control his own body, everything he could possibly feel, but he could no longer be sure. She slipped in his life as quickly as slowly he realized she did.

He huffed in his bed, placing his pillow on his face, though she was still in his head. He couldn't believe it, how he lets himself get carried away and honestly try to kiss her when she was trapped in his arms.

Oh ground, may it eat him whole and cast oblivion to the beautiful silly girl who was probably willingly kissing her tooth paste commercial model-like boy friend a floor below him.

"Stupid, utterly stupid, you are the biggest imbecile breathing in London, Enoch, I disown you, you stupid arse" He groaned on his pillow, frowning as the image of Olive and that Zachary getting on it on his coach. His blood boil in his body, his fingers balling into fists. He looked probably better; her pressed on him with her smiling face all teasing against his.

He blinked then, as what had happened came interrupting him again.

When she teased him, her face glowing with childish wonder and innocence, it was as though sunlight, relaxing all his muscles but his smile reflexes, making him want to return her ease, her infectious smile. They ran, yes, he chased her with no other emergencies but just to lengthen the time he has with just the two of them, to hear the snorts in her laughters that he grown to like so much. And when she slipped, everything went in slow motion, especially...

His heart tugged in his chest, his body reacting to the ghost of hers'. When she fell on top of him, all his logical reasoning come clouding his brain. His heightened arousal to touch her, to pull her onto him so much deeper, to have her close, closer. His emotions were all over the place, of wanting so desperately to kiss her cheeks, her forehead, her neck, her lips... to tell her she's beautiful against her smiling pair. To let her know just how much she seeped through his veins, and now, now she's in his blood stream.

She felt so warm and soft and just so lovely inside his arms. She once hugged him, the very first time they met, but that accidental slip was so much more. He was already.. feeling and thinking things he shouldn't for a friend. Clearly, wanting to have her around, be content of just her happiness whilst also longing to have her lips meet his, weren't how he should think of his.

He never was the type to hug, nonetheless any form of affection, but blimey, he'd have her stick around in a heart beat. To have her that close, her skin on his, she was just a breath from him.

He shifted to one side of his bed, eyes lingering to the space next to him. Was it possible? To feel something so strongly for a person he had only just met? And what of Emma and his steady pining for her? Wasn't she the girl he was so set and convinced to ever end up with?

And what will become of him when Olive leaves? She will surely get the role, it's not only that he was confident she would, but she's incredible like that. Surely, with that green eyed monster around, everything's perfect in their pod. The two of them, all picture perfect and minds alike, Enoch would be a forgotten person back in the Eastern part of London.

His heart ached and his stare hardened. She wormed herself in his home, her essence leaving marks on everything that it sort of felt as if she was staying. How on earth will he go back to the life he had forgotten of?

In the silence, he knew and know he has to face too.

Her smile came springing back, almost as if printed in his thoughts. He lifted one end of his lips, finding comfort in her happiness. For all he knew not of love, there was one thing he couldn't understand for all its perplexity, but so far, possibly, he could give his own testimony.

That's what it is to love, right? To give your own and be happy they have received?

And so as slow as the sun gives way to the moon, slowly and deeply, with all the chaos, and sudden stream of emotions, he was falling in love with Olive Elephanta.

* * *

 _Yes, I'm that type of writer who includes accidental trips, especially, those with almost kisses. But I do think I didn't give it justice. As per usual, it was a lot better in my head. Oh I don't know._

 _And yes, I'm also that type of fanfic writer who begs for reviews. Please, PLEASEE, please do review._


	16. Opposite Sides: Pause

**Chapter 16**

 **Opposite Sides**

 **Pause; next to you**

Her body felt as if it was drenched with freezing cold water, perhaps, even prickled with tiny needles. She couldn't move, can't. Her eyes were wide as the gasps from the others became bleak in her surroundings. Madame Wren was on the stage, introducing the four surprise judges that would watch and mark their presentation for the day, she can't pay any attention even when she tries hard to ignore the pain that stretched to her system. She felt as if she was Harry Potter with the scar, only the scar was her drive, her aim.

And now, that scar was a living, breathing being, one that was all too real and sharing the same air she breathes. Her tummy felt weird, there was a clog in her throat that she's too tempted to release, and her skin was clammy and cold at the same time.

Her eyes met the same browns she was trying hard not to forget. It was as if the time that had passed was all a mere dream, a nightmare that made her wake up forgetful and confused. Yet still though, next to the woman was also another human figure, one with pretty hazel eyes and well lived childhood, the reminder that the nightmare was in fact, her life, and she was just a forgotten child.

She wished that her mother knew, when their eyes met. Like those soap operas with the same plot, time stood still and immediately, the mother of the long lost child would eventually feel the connection. The child, Olive, did, she knew that brilliant, expressive eyes anywhere, she remembered them all to clearly.

But her mother only scanned the crowd, in return, looking back at the teenage girl next to her. There was a look of fondness, of pride, of everything Olive had always dreamt of experiencing once they're reunited. Her mother called the girl her ballerina, as if the girl was the only one.

She has a step sister, 17 years younger than she is. Just like that, the ballet flats that once wrapped her toes with comfort and direction, now felt like a map without destination. She glanced at her worn out soles, how she used to stuff them with cottons and tissues just to fit. It didn't occur to her that she's not meant to follow, until now.

"The first to perform is Zachary and Olive," her mother's voice still has the same lightweight quality in it. How that sound used to cradle her to sleep as though melodies for her to get lost in. But now, the heavy feeling in her chest made her know that it was reality.

The sound of her name felt foreign, so were her mother's eyes. It was as if she did not, at least once, existed at all.

She raised one shaky hand, not trusting her voice. Zachary stood up alongside her, his hand pulling her up and she felt as though she'll faint.

The music starts, soft but gradually increasing in volume, yet more so, her heart was louder, attempting to escape her ears; back and forth, back and forth-

Eyes, she can sense their eyes, her mother's eyes, waiting, anticipating for her to finally admit defeat. It was a game of hide and seek, when only there was nothing to sought. Back and forth, back and forth-

She was losing it. The steps she knew by heart were lost, hiding in her labyrinth, as the other facets of her came running towards the maze. Zachary did not hide his confusion and his arms were trying to reach out for her, to lead her, she lets him. Back and forth, back and forth-

She felt suffocated, his skin was cold against hers, her body worn out, and suddenly, everything was mechanical. Her feet feel sore, all the cramps endured throughout the years resonated to bite her arse in that moment. She's tired.

Her brain wanted her to breathe, everything about her just wanted to fall apart.

The music went crescendo and it was the part when Zachary would let her go.

 _Don't go, don't go-_

He did,

she spun,

her eyes were closed, tears forming behind

Through the fog and confusion, she remembered, as if an episode of derealization where she could only watch in the privacy of the theaters behind her eyes.

There was her mother, tickling her sides as they watch a marathon of her favorite cartoon, the cheese coating her little girl teeth and somewhere, she could hear the distant laughter of her father, calling her out affectionately, a mug of hot choco in hand, always wanting to win her smile.

Then was life, spreading her arms as her father toss her dangerously far to the sky. She had always wanted to be a bird, and he calls her pigeon. He made her believe the impossible things, made her believe that love, among other things, will never disappoint.

And suddenly came death, black clothes and lilies being thrown to gray casket. Her mother clutching her hand so tightly that the other one felt empty. There was a phantom of another hand that was no longer warm. It was supposed to be her father's side, as was the warmth of the home he never failed to spread, or the ghost of hot chocolate stain by her bedside table that faded. She did not understand why he chose to sleep in the tight, restrictive box when he can have her bed. Her mother could only stare right back as she wept.

Her eyes opened wide, the tears were evident on her cheeks. She remembered that faithful day that changed everything, and what happened afterwards-

Zachary communicated his concerns with his eyes, she didn't have the heart to answer, instead, she spun again.

Afterwards was a tense, silent cab ride to the huge house full of windows. There were plenty of trees surrounding it and behind was a garden that overlooks the beach. Inside were loud voices that belonged to children older than her, she tried to peak inside, but was stopped by a tall woman. Ms. Alma has sharp cheeks, tight bun, thin lips, and she looked at her with warm eyes. Before her mother could beckon her to come closer, she already knew the woman could be trusted. It had been awhile since she saw such sincerity and safety from anyone.

"Ms. Peregrine, this is Olive, Olive Elephanta," she knew she was Olive, though she couldn't remember ever being Olive Elephanta, why was her mother being silly? She did not have the time to ask since her mother kneeled down to meet her eyes. There was a familiar care and warmth in there, the look had her crying, she missed them.

"Be a good little lady, okay? Mommy will be back, mommy will come back for you" Ms. Peregrine placed her hand gently on her shoulder as though knowing the inner turmoil she had been experiencing, her mother cupped her small face and tried to clear her tears away, "there, there, Olive, look, Mommy's giving you her favorite ballet shoes! Be good and take care of them for me. It's yours now, my love"

Ever since that moment when her mother turned around and walked out from the door, at eight years old, the only reminder of the life she knew was on the pair of ballet flats, and now was the life her own mother had disregarded.

Her body shook and she turned putty in Zachary's arms. She was shaking all over and she felt as though she couldn't breathe. He momentarily stopped, the moment making them miss the tempo. He tried to gather her, to stop her from managing to push herself, still, she conquered, range, insecurity, loneliness elicited from her sharp movements.

Why wasn't she loved? Why was she alone? Was she not worth loving at all?

The intense feeling grabbed her heart and squeezed, her own chest tightening as though she couldn't breathe. The music ends and she came back unaware of her surroundings. Zachary began to bow yet was stopped when he noticed her staring blankly at her toes. He shook her once, twice, but she did not respond.

"Are you alright?"

It was her mother again, still pretending she did not exist, still pretending she was just another girl, still pretending she was alright, still pretending, still-

She raised her eyes and the waterworks broke. Her body began to tremble as the hands that grabbed her heart had perforated holes on it. She tried to take deep breaths but it only resulted her into heaving through watery throat. It was all too much, she hurts so much.

"Olive?" Eyes, there were eyes that looked quizzically at her, as though waiting for her to give in to their intents. She shook her head violently, her toes wobbly as she attempts to walk away.

"I'm sorry, I need to go"

Somewhere behind her, Zachary worries, but his voice was outside her walls, the lines on the floor were getting blurry each passing step.

"I need to get out"

The glass door illuminated the soft rays outside. She needs to escape.

"I have to-"

Her hand just a few inches away, but her form shrunk to the ground, too heavy and tired.

Unnamed faces appeared beneath the glow of the light above, her head rested upon someone's thighs- Zachary's, and she tried to fight their prying hands away, though they probably assumed she was clinging for dear life.

They shook her shoulders and called out her name, trying to make her remain conscious, but why would she? She needs to escape, escape the reality she was slapped with.

* * *

He swore his fingers will end up having rougher callouses with all the tight grips he applies to the steering wheel, and he'd make sure Olive knows about it after he'd see to himself she's alright.

Oh, the number of times she drives him to the brink of his frustrations.

Still, his stomach nestles an uneasy feeling on it, one that he recognized easily as worry and anxiety. When he received the phone call, from no other than Zachary, he was momentarily stunned, but when the boy told him Olive was sent to the nearby clinic, he immediately bit his ear. At some time after that incident, he'd have the pleasure in remembering that exact moment, when he had the chance to shout at the younger boy and he did so flawlessly.

Zachary stuttered right after his frantic stunt and obvious worry, yet he still managed to tell all the details Enoch needed. He gathered the unusual way Olive had been acting before fainting- she was distracted, preoccupied, even during their performance, then cried, trembled, and stared aimlessly.

He tried to grin at the notion that he scares Zachary, but all he can do was frown. What could've made her behave such way? Most importantly, is she safe?

 _Damn it, why do roads have to have speed limits?_ , his thoughts echoed.

The clinic was thankfully, quite near to the studio. It eased his worries a little that she was rushed accordingly. Who knows what could've had happened in her pathology besides her vasovagal response? What if her hormones or biochemicals happen to play miss and match as if trying clothes that fit, not caring about the effects they'll cause to their home? What frightened her so that made her react direly? His Olive Elephanta who never backs down without a fight, Olive, and her notions about not giving up and not giving a damn, Olive, Olive..

The speed on which he got out of the car was fascinating. Along with the topic at hand, his fight or flight system might've been activated. He possibly sensed danger, although not with himself but for Olive.

His body was numb but his heart was firm, he was automatic as he scanned the signs and made his way. The nerves were running, fuel, in order to think straight. He couldn't stop worrying.

He needed to see her, all in one piece with her cheeky grin and eyes wide and sparkling with innocence and mischief. They'll be alright.

Yet, of what greeted him on the waiting area was not the same girl, but she was wearing her skin.

"Olive," he said, as though questioning, but still, firm. He stared at her placid form, making sure that he could reach her, that somehow, with having both his feet set on the ground, he could pull her down.. before she'd float completely.

If she registered his presence, she did not let him know. It then became a staring contest with him and the back of her head, his contemplating eyes boring holes until she decides to turn around. He waited, seemingly determined not to crack. She has her back slightly bent and her hands placed upon her lap, he knew it was unconscious but it was Olive's position whenever she feels defeated or disappointed.

If only he could see her face.

He doesn't know how long he stood there, or when it became like a picture, of them not moving. But suddenly, the fish in the aquarium opened its mouth, creating a small bubble, the clock ticked its long hand, pages of paper on the paperboard flipped, and she turned and he breathed.

Slowly, a sign of life showed when she nodded meekly, "lets go home". She stood up, her face directed to the slightly ajar glass doors.

Despite her defeated form, her face does not convey any message of anything. Instead, there was a new expression on her usually expressive face, one that does not hold any affect at all. Her warm eyes were dark and her lips were still as though they won't ever stretch in their usual mirth.

His heart clenched, he couldn't bear it. He tried to meet her eyes, she always stare back, yet she didn't. Her feet followed the beeline to the glass doors. He glanced back at her seat, the blurry sight of color distracted him. There, on the plastic chair was her ballet flats, that one pair she always held against her arms and was careful about, almost as if her life depended on them.

He ran back to her, the weight of her flats heavy in his hands, though he did not know why. She kept walking, and he decided not to tell her. It was almost as if she couldn't carry the weight of her own messes anymore.

What she failed to see was that he, even unconsciously, wouldn't mind catching her spills and help carry some of them along with his'.

* * *

The next few days were idle, yet momentous as well. Olive had cooped herself in her room and she refused to get out. It was only in the mornings did she make an appearance, but it was due to her duties as his supposed pops in his emails once in a while, updating him with reschedules and the up-to-date trends in society. She also continued to make him hot cocoa and even added cooking everybody's breakfast, then she'd retreat in her habitat. Afterwards, Mama Dust would place her plate behind the door, thankfully she takes them.

He still second guesses himself if it was the right move to return the flats to her. Somehow, he knew that the pair was to blame for her disposition. Surely something happened, something so crucial that immediately spun her life upside down. He recognized such aftermath all too well.

He knew what that felt like, still feels like. He wears the burden every single day of his life, it became another layer of skin. And that skin soon turned into a shield that he did not have the strength to scratch, for fearing he will, again, bleed. He lives compensating the pain with that devouring hurt; at least he knew he gets along too well with his self hate.

His eyes narrowed in determination, his hand turning clockwise to enter the oddly silent room. The girl behind the door does not deserve to live a life he has. Always in the dark, always lurking behind, always seeing himself unworthy of any form of happiness, always so afraid..

Her usually bright room was restricted with the cover of the blinds. The small gaps from the panels create slits of light that randomly reflect brightness, one being to the still figure of Olive Elephanta.

She was sitting upon her comfy beanbag. He could've teased her with how it made her look tinier than she is, but her sullen state made him hold his tongue and his tummy clench. Down from her face, he noted her hands. They were slightly red, and he guesses the reason was the pair that were held tightly in them.

"Put those down," he mused, gently, which shocked him.

To his surprise, she inclined her head, one brow raising in curiosity.

"Why?" Her voice was throaty, dry from not having enough water in her system. He sets his jaw, his eyes revealing his concern.

She found herself unable to look, his blunt emotion reminded her of the anguish.

"this, this is constricting you-" he stated, as if stating a fact. That stirred the lingering anger in her system.

"Please don't treat me like I'm delicate, like I'm some damned, broken porcelain doll-" her eyes were moving frantically all over the place, her hands forming to fists. The flats surrendered to her treatment, folding under her brute.

"I am not," he quickly retorted, grabbing her arms in an attempt to calm her down. She was forced to look at him, her brows meeting in the middle, shoulders slightly relaxing. "I am not here to baby you, constrict you, or whatever, I want you to get all of that pain out" he pointed her chest, indicating everything she must've held inside. "Lets get out of here, and then you and I will scream, curse, and holler all we want. Be angry-

just, just don't close up on me, Olive" He knew he sounded selfish and weak in that moment, but that seemed to work. Olive sighed, one with an ache under her breath.

She shrugged his hold off, and he pretended that did not hurt. He instead, grab her hand hesitantly. She stilled and then, laced her fingers in between the gaps of his.

He led her down the house, out of the prying eyes, and her secluded cage. He didn't know it, but Olive cracked one pitiful, but still, a smile. Her heart ache, but at least there came a feeling she thought was gone.

* * *

The outside world seemed peaceful and she wouldn't blame it for being clueless about her turmoil. She didn't want anybody to get involved with her suffering, and she felt liable for causing Bronwyn, Sam, Mama Dust, Ronaldo, Zachary, and Enoch, such worry. She wished she could've reverted back to her old self, back when the world used to be oh so bearable when you have courage and optimism, but she's afraid she's too far gone to ever climb back up. Everything just hurt.

What does one do when what they think is the reason they're alive, forgets about them? Was she already a dead person walking?

She looked up above the the curving trees, their leaves meeting each other as they shield her from the sun. Perhaps, there were slits of moments when she was exposed to the truth, but she hides behind her hopes because she was afraid of what might come afterwards. Truth, as they say, will set you free, but it only made her end up lost.

What will she do now?

Next to her, Enoch had his face set to a frown, trying his best to concentrate on the road ahead. Car rides with Olive was always infuriating, yet, strangely, homely. She would often sing, enough to cause alarm to nestling birds in their perch, or even dance, that kind which she wouldn't dare do in her ballet performances. Yet, in that exact moment, he felt as though he was alone, as if she was slowly fading.

"I always go here when I need a place to vent" He wished he has knowledge with how to comfort people, but for the life of him, he doesn't. But he cared for her, truly.

She turned, her mane moving just so her face could be seen. "You don't have to do this," her eyes were restless and his thoughts were as well, worrying over her.

"I want to help you," his voice stated as though it was a fact, his eyes though, were so soft, they reminded her of those days when there is no single cloud in sight, but the vastness of the blue skies. Beneath the warm sand of the beach, below the heavens, she rests. "the hot cocoa's getting more bitter than to my liking" he counteracted, shrugging as he tries to make it seem like it was just any other usual day, when he would tease her, and she'd toss one back.

Fortunately, that made her well known grin slightly form itself, its ghost almost appearing. "Say what you want, I know you care for me"

And care he truly does. Finally, for a while, she felt as of she found her breath again.

With his hand covering hers, he brought her to the cliffs.

There was a rhythmic cycle of waves meeting the irregular sharp steeps of formed rocks. The chaotic sound soothed her so, as though the sun blinding her to a fresh day, pushing her to breathe life anew. She closed her eyes, inhaling the faint smell of the ocean, its salt. Once, during that dire period of her life, when her father died and her mother left her, the body of water always brought her some kind of comfort, she believed the sea was formed of unshed tears, where they are washed away by waves and they'll be gone.

Her arms wrapped themselves around her torso, hugging her system in hopes to get herself together.

"Sit down with me," he requested, patting the spot next to him.

She sat crossing her legs, her eyes set still to the ranging seas.

Just as the waves come and go, the sun was soft amidst the fading blue of the skies. She slumped down, her posture laid back, enough to freak Madame Wren if she was to see her then. In contrast, beside her, she noticed that Enoch was tense, his fingers forming circles onto the rough ground.

His brows meet in the middle, the crinkles beside his eyes were deep. His thoughts must've been too, yet he fought. Shakily, he found her hand with his, intertwining their fingers like they always do, and what they need to do, too.

"Victor was my best friend, you know. He died because of me" Victor. The late twin brother of the soft hearted woman who raised her. She remembered him from some few pictures littered upon the mantle top of her flat with Bronwyn. He looked alot like his sister that sometimes, she remembered hearing Wyn cry silently as she stared at herself in front of the mirror. The woman always tend to leave him flowers everyday as Olive's memories could serve her right.

It was safe to say she was surprised by the revelation. How Enoch had always seemed to be more aloof with Bronwyn than how he normally acts. There was hostility, somehow, and now, it did make sense.

She clenched his hand in hers, as though afraid he'd let go of her.

"I am just so angry, Olive. If only I did not ran away that night, if only I was not stupid enough to swim in that damned ocean by myself. If only Bronwyn wasn't such a goody two shoes, Victor would still be alive. If only my own mother cared enough for her weird son, my best friend would have still been here.

If only that bastard would have done a great job killing me that night, nobody has to die."

Her tears were cold against her cheeks, the fresh air drying the dampness of the liquid. "Hey," she tried to catch his attention, her grip on his hand visibly tight, gripping him like a vice.

He laughed half-heartedly, shaking his head as though in a trance. Perhaps he was. Below, the angry waves were dashing to and fro, and he remembered Victor. He remembered the anxiety, the screaming, the panic, the knowing. Victor was dead, Victor was gone.

"I hate my mother, I hate myself, Olive. No matter what I do, I couldn't let him go" He didn't know that he, too, has his face damp with his own tears until Olive slung her arms around him, wrapping him in her cold embrace. She too was miserable, but she couldn't let him suffer alone.

She made a shh-ing noise, one that was supposed to calm him. "Maybe you shouldn't, Enoch, it's alright not to"

He breathed out largely, was supposed to retreat in defense, yet her arms tightened their grip.

"If there's anything to be sorry for to Victor, it's you, blaming yourself for something you didn't do. And I know he wouldn't want you to grieve him like this, like you're punishing yourself by burying your own life," her face, the frown on it as well as her sincere eyes made him feel safe, as though she was certain, and that was what he wanted all along, certainty.

"What he wants is for you to live, live with all you got, that's how you can make it up to him"

His face was void of any emotion, yet inside, he felt as though he was bring released. As if it was the very first time he could ever have a good night's sleep. Why did it take a colorful Olive Elephanta for him to see sense? It got harder and harder somehow, as the time went on. For always being treated as though apathetic, he embodied such.

He didn't answer, though she didn't need him to. There was softening in his face that was rooted deeper than the lines on his skin. She smiled despite herself. She felt as though she finally made something right, as though her existence matters. By his release, she felt herself get at ease. Her truth then came spilling over as if it was only natural, like how one can expect the waves to come and go, as well as the sun.

"The days after my mum abandoned me, I used to watch the shoreline, cry with all I got because I believe the waves will hear my distress somehow, and carry my message wherever my mum would be. That no matter where she is, my call would get washed away to her direction. Every single day, I wait for her to come back. But she never got the message, didn't she?

And I don't know what to do now, now that I've seen all of those bottles stacked, a pile of useless words"

She wore an empty smile. Suddenly, her eyes revealed the weariness they had to endure.

Enoch couldn't believe it, how two polar opposites could've such opportunity as to sit beside each other, baring themselves to the other. Somehow, in their situation, when it was acceptable to not be around anybody when you're hurting, they chose to make sense of their crap, together.

"This is not her story, this is yours. And she's not welcomed to destroy you," Her abdomen trembled, her chest heaving. The guilt of being angry washed away with the waves of fresh salty tears that trailed. "I don't care whoever she is-"

"she's my mother, Enoch" She laughed, her eyes twinkling with the unshed tears. He couldn't help it, seeing her like that. Damn it, he's not equipped in handling crying people to begin with. His fingers traced the trail of her tears on her cheek, his eyes following the movements.

His voice visibly softens, "yeah, she did a really good job on being one, really"

That one made her snort, a small smile attempting to take place. "I just want to know, you know? Why she did it"

Behind her disposition, her bright eyes and smile, Enoch knew Olive was insecure, unaware of how easy it was to love her. He knows that fact doesn't speak just for himself, but for those who surround her, and were lucky enough to know her. "Whatever the reason is, listen close, Elephanta. You are not alone. You have Bronwyn, Mama Dust, Ronaldo, Horace, Claire- hell, even Zachary,"

He placed his hand on her cheek, the pads of his fingers stroking her damp but soft and warm skin.

"you have me as well, Olive"

Her eyes blinked back, her hand holding the one having her. She leaned in his touch, smiling as he spoke affirmations.

The air travel in the breeze, caressing the strands of their hair, as well as their tear streaked cheeks. Their hands hold each other, vessels carrying the blood, passing each other's warmth as though oxygen to keep the other breathing. Somewhere, below, the waves crash angrily, though somehow she found peace.

"and you have me, Enoch"

and so did he.

The waves were quiet, lulling his body to get near her, closer. She dived in to the deep and saw the shipwreck, she rescued his skeleton and warmed his flesh. Somehow, he was human again, still, human.

"where do we go now?"

"forward, we move forward"

* * *

 _I am terribly sorry for keeping you guys waiting! This scene was one of those that had been on my mind before the previous chapters were conceptualized and I wanted it so badly to be good, I waited for the inspiration but I can't seem to find the courage to continue. Again, I'm sorry for having you waiting just to read such a crappy chapter :( ._


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